They were both much interested in Matthew’s campaign. That gave them something to talk about and something to focus a mutual interest upon. But Cecily was suffering even more from a fear of Matthew’s departure than was Dick. Since her mother had died, she, like Dick, had been lonely, but that did not help them to find refuge in each other. Matthew and, curiously enough, Ellen, were the only people in whom Cecily felt there was comprehension of her and approval. She had one conversation with Mother Fénelon when she and Dick reached the breaking point. “There’s no reason for this,” said Mother Fénelon. “You are a good woman and your husband is a good man. You have duties to each other.” “Virtue and duties are the least part of marriage to-day, Mother Fénelon. You can’t manage with just those things. You have to use the modern methods. It’s a science to-day to have a husband.” “Marriage is what it always has been.” “I’m afraid not. It’s altered with the jazz band and the servant problem and the ‘keep young’ crusade.” There was more, but to no purpose. The break came immediately after Matthew’s election. Reaction helped perhaps, as did the fact that little by little every one had come to guess that the young Harrisons were unhappy and Della and Madeline and others had come to give Cecily advice. “You’ve humiliated me beyond all decency,” Cecily told Dick bitterly. “There’s no dignity, no privacy left between us.” “Then I’d better go,” answered Dick. She weakened then, but it was all useless and in her mind she knew that Dick must go, that they could not keep on this rending life, which was exhausting them both. Dick went to his club. He wanted to leave the city, but with Matthew’s departure imminent he couldn’t. And with Dick’s definite action bruited about, the young Harrisons became the favorite topic for discussion--discussion which carried its probing back to tales of the first unhappy marriage of Mrs. Warner and made strange and foolish deductions. Mr. Warner, after listening for an hour to Della, who brought the news home and philosophized extempore on just what Cecily’s mistake had been, took his hat and proceeded to Cecily’s house. It was the day on which the few personal effects which Dick needed had left the house. She met her stepfather in the living-room, rising from a dusky corner where she was sitting with her hands in her lap, strangely idle. The soft white silk of her dress was hardly whiter than her face. Mr. Warner put his hat and cane down slowly and went towards her, taking both her hands. “My poor Cecily.” She did not show any sign of collapse or tears. It seemed to him that she was broken, but the impression did not come from her appearance or her voice. “Dick thought he’d better go.” He sat down and tapped on the arms of his chair, an old man habit that had come over him lately. “Do you want a divorce from Dick, Cecily?” “Not now. Neither of us wants that now. We’re too--raw.” She shuddered.