“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am,” Alonzo said in a loud, firm voice, as he got to his feet, though the place grew vague about him when the lady stretched a charming, slender, gloved hand to him across Truslow's desk. He gave it several solemn shakes. “We shouldn't have disturbed you, perhaps?” she asked, smiling radiantly upon him. “You were at some important work, I'm afraid.” He met her eyes again, and their beauty and the thoughtful kindliness of them fairly took his breath. “I am the chairman, ma'am,” he replied, swallowing, “of the committee on drains and dikes.” “I knew it was something of great moment,” she said gravely, “but I was anxious to tell you that I was interested in your speech.” A few minutes later, without knowing how he had got his hat and coat from the cloak-room, Alonzo Rawson found himself walking slowly through the marble vistas of the State house to the great outer doors with the lady and Truslow. They were talking inconsequently of the weather, and of various legislators, but Alonzo did not know it. He vaguely formed replies to her questions and he hardly realized what the questions were; he was too stirringly conscious of the rich quiet of her voice and of the caress of the grey fur of her cloak when the back of his hand touched it--rather accidentally--now and then, as they moved on together. It was a cold, quick air to which they emerged and Alonzo, daring to look at her, found that she had pulled the veil down over her face, the colour of which, in the keen wind, was like that of June roses seen through morning mists. At the curb a long, low, rakish black motor-car was in waiting, the driver a mere swaddled cylinder of fur. Truslow, opening the little door of the tonneau, offered his hand to the lady. “Come over to the club, Senator, and lunch with me,” he said. “Mrs. Protheroe won't mind dropping us there on her way.” That was an eerie ride for Alonzo, whose feet were falling upon strange places. His pulses jumped and his eyes swam with the tears of unlawful speed, but his big ungloved hand tingled not with the cold so much as with the touch of that divine grey fur upon his little finger. “You intend to make many speeches, Mr. Truslow tells me,” he heard the rich voice saying. “Yes ma'am,” he summoned himself to answer. “I expect I will. Yes ma'am.” He paused, and then repeated, “Yes ma'am.” She looked at him for a moment. “But you will do some work, too, won't you?” she asked slowly. Her intention in this passed by Alonzo at the time. “Yes ma'am,” he answered. “The committee work interests me greatly, especially drains and dikes.” “I have heard,” she said, as if searching his opinion, “that almost as much is accomplished in the committee-rooms as on the floor? There--and in the lobby and in the hotels and clubs?”