His silence seemed to mystify her. When she spoke it was as though she might have a vague premonition of his confused thoughts. "But there's no need for my having an apprehension that he will blunder, is there?" she asked. "We all make mistakes," he said, conscientiously trying to assure her. He realized, however, that his answer sounded evasive and fearful of further questioning he added, hastily, "His election is conceded by everyone." They rose from the table. To "Mother" Graham, perched on a stool behind a cash register near the door, he paid for their dinner and they stepped out into the street. Night had descended quickly. The cool, refreshing breeze from the ocean that tempers the warmth of the day was coming in gently, caressingly, soothingly from the west, and worries fled away with it like dead leaves whisked from the trees. During the pre-view, which lasted an hour and a half, John had but few chances to converse with Consuello. She was busy with Bonwit, the director, and a half dozen others whom John decided were the technicians whose business it was to revise the film before it was released. They sat grouped in a semi-circle and several times certain scenes were flashed on the screen repeatedly for closer observation. The girl he saw on the screen was much more like Consuello in real life than the girl he had seen before the camera. The make-up that had transformed her features for her part in the picture was indiscernible on the screen and marvelously the real Consuello was before him. The "close-up" for which she had posed alone, holding the bouquet of daisies, was even prettier than it had been when she enacted it. He realized now what were the results sought by the camera men in shifting the reflectors. Like a halo, sunlight shone around her face, through the loose tresses of her hair, giving it an ethereal appearance. So intently did he study every move, every expression of Consuello's on the screen that he had completely overlooked the story of the photoplay. The scene in which the actor embraced Consuello and gazed fervently heavenward was far more impressive than it had been when it was enacted and the "close-up" of his features, over her shoulder, John decided was really an excellent bit of facial expression. When the pre-view was completed and the lights were flashed on again in the small room, Consuello came directly to him. "Now, what do you think of 'Jean Hope,' do you like her?" she asked. "I adore her," he said, without restraint. The almost timid look of incredulousness he remembered having noticed when he told her she was beautiful at the Barton Randolph lawn fete came into her eyes. For a fraction of a second they looked into each other's faces and something that she saw told her that his adoration was not only for the image of herself that he had seen upon the screen. She caught her underlip between her teeth and looked down.