Farley looked thoughtful. “I think I’ll let those fellows rip,” he said, slowly. “I’ll stay here and watch out for developments.” “Don’t do it, Farley,” said Briggs, wearily. “It isn’t worth while.” Farley looked astonished. “Not worth while?” he repeated. “No. I don’t care whether I’m licked or not. In fact, I think I’d rather be licked.” Farley looked sharply at Briggs. “You’re tired out, I guess,” he said. “Yes, I’m mentally, physically, morally exhausted,” Briggs replied, passing his hand across his eyes. “Nothing seems worth while to me--not even success. Strange, isn’t it? I’ve staked everything on this election to-night, and if I’m beaten, my political career is done for. And yet I don’t care.” “But you won’t be beaten,” Farley insisted, with a laugh. Briggs made a gesture of impatience. “Don’t be too sure of that. To tell the truth, Farley, I’ve felt all along that the fight was hopeless. But I’ve tried to keep a stiff upper lip. I didn’t want you fellows to know how discouraged I was. Look here, Farley, I’m sick of this. If I’m snowed under, I’ll only get what I deserve.” “You’re pretty tired, Congressman,” said Farley, with anxiety in his face. He had seen men break down before under the strain of a political campaign. “When a man has to go through life without any self-respect he’s apt to get pretty tired of himself. And when he has a wife who knows what he is!” Briggs threw back his head and laughed. “God! I suppose there are thousands of men right here in New York who are like that. Their wives know they’re blackguards, and they know they know it!” The two men sat in silence. The look of worry was deepening in Farley’s face. “Farley,” Briggs suddenly asked, “how old are you?” “Thirty-five.” “How does it happen that you aren’t married?” Farley smiled and flushed. “Oh, I’ve had other things to think of,” he said, evasively. Douglas Briggs looked at him for a moment. “Do you mean that you’ve never been in love?” “No, I didn’t mean that,” Farley replied, walking to the desk and looking down at some papers, with both hands resting on the edge. “Then you have been?” Farley did not stir. “Yes,” he replied. “Seriously?” Farley nodded. “What was the matter?” Farley flushed again, and smiled faintly. “I couldn’t get her!” “Someone else?” “H’m, m’m.” Briggs looked at Farley for a long time. “And she knows about it?” he asked, gently. “I think so. I don’t know,” said Farley, turning away and leaning against the desk with his back toward Briggs. For several moments neither spoke. They heard the clock tick. “I suppose there is some sort of justice in this world,” Briggs remarked, with a sigh, “but it’s pretty hard to see it sometimes.” “I’ve thought of that myself,” Farley replied, dryly. “But I’m beginning to find out one thing, Farley. The Almighty often likes to give us what we deserve by letting us have the things we want.” “Sometimes He gives us more than we deserve,” said Farley, in a low voice.