“So did I. Come over here and let me kiss the tired place.” She took a seat beside her husband and turned her cheek toward him, with the amused patience of the married woman who has ceased to be demonstrative. “I know the feeling,” said her husband, with his fingers at the corners of his mouth. “Muscles in here.” Helen sighed. “Horrid, isn’t it?” “Well, it’s all part of the game, I suppose. Whew!” “What was that for?” she asked, quickly. Briggs patted her hand. “Nothing, dear, nothing. They say it’s a great success.” “I was frightened about the supper; but everything has gone off well.” Briggs looked into his wife’s face. “Helen, sometimes I wonder what would become of me if it weren’t for you.” “What a foolish thing to say, Douglas!” “Someone told me to-night that I’d been successful here in Washington because I had such a popular wife. I guess there was a good deal of truth in that.” She drew her hand away and let it rest on her lap. “Nonsense! You’ve succeeded because you’ve worked hard, and because you’ve had the courage of your convictions.” “Oh!” In the dim light she could not see the change of expression in his face. “And I suppose you’ve had a little ability, too,” she conceded, with a smile. For a moment they sat in silence. “Helen!” he said. “Well?” “Sometimes I feel as if I hadn’t a shred of character left, as if I couldn’t stand this political life any longer, with its insincerities, its intrigues, its indecencies. Now, these people here to-night--what do they care about us? Nothing. They come here, and they eat and drink and dance, and then they go away and blacken my character.” She turned quickly, with astonishment in her face. “Why, Douglas!” “I shouldn’t talk like this, dear, especially at this time, when you have so much on your mind.” He took her hand again and held it tightly. “Helen, do you ever wonder if it’s worth while--all this?” “This display, do you mean?” “Yes; this society business. I’m sick of it. Sometimes it makes me--well, it makes me long for those old days in Waverly, when we were so happy together. Even if we were poor we had each other, didn’t we?” “Yes.” “And we had our ambitions and our foolish aspirations. They helped to make us happy.” She drew closer to him. “But they weren’t foolish, Douglas. That is, yours weren’t. And think how you’ve realized all you hoped for already!” Douglas Briggs drew a long breath. “Yes, I’ve got what I wanted. But the reality is considerably different from what I thought it was going to be. I suppose that’s true of nearly every kind of success. We have to pay for it some way. Why, Helen, there are whole days when you and I don’t have five minutes together!” “That’s because you have so much to do, dear. I used to mind it at first. But then I saw it couldn’t be helped.” “And you’ve been too good to complain. I’ve understood that all along.”