and took a house that proved to be nearly twice as expensive as he thought it could possibly be. In return for hospitalities he had to give elaborate entertainments. His wife remonstrated; he reassured her, and she trusted him. At the end of the year he owed fifteen thousand dollars. It was then that he had first met Franklin West. He recalled now with shame his own ingenuous dealings with the lobbyist. In spite of his misgivings, he had accepted the fellow’s offer of help; he had placed himself under such obligations that only two courses were open to him, both, as it seemed, dishonorable--to go into bankruptcy and to ruin his future career, or to become West’s agent, his tool. At the time, he thought he was making a choice between two evils, and he tried to justify himself by the exigencies of the situation and by the plea that his public services more than justified his course. After all, if the Government did not pay its legislators enough to enable them to live as they must live in Washington, it was only fair that the matter should be squared. But it was only in his worst moments that he resorted to this argument. Like most buoyant natures, Douglas Briggs often had sudden attacks of depression. His talk with Farley, followed by the interview with Franklin West, had taken away all his enthusiasm. Farley, he thought bitterly, had just said that this was a great night for him. Yes, it was a great night. It advertised him before the country as one of the most successful men in Washington and one of the richest men in Congress. What if the papers did ask where he got his money? They were always asking such questions about public men. He need have no fear of them. It was from himself that his punishment must come. The opening of the new house, this magnificent ball--what real satisfaction could it give him? He could not feel even the elation of victory. He had won no victory. This ball, this house, stood for his defeat, his failure, for the failure that meant a life of deceit, of concealment, of covert hypocrisy. Even from the woman he loved beyond the hope of salvation he must hide his real self. He must let her think he was someone else, the man she wished him to be, the man she had tried to make him. Their children, too, would be taught by her, he would teach them himself, to honor him. They would learn the principles by which he must be judged. V “What’s the matter, dear?” Douglas Briggs looked up quickly. “Oh, is that you, Helen?” He smiled into his wife’s face and took her hand. In spite of her matronly figure Helen Briggs did not look her thirty-five years. She had the bright eyes and the fresh coloring of a girl. “I stole away just for a minute,” she said. “I got so tired of smiling.”