In a few days Helen had settled into the monotony of Waverly. The old friends came to see her; the old country gayeties, however, continued without her. She devoted herself chiefly to the children, giving Miss Munroe a holiday of several weeks. She scrupulously wrote to her husband every day, and he answered as regularly. He said that Congress would probably not adjourn till late in July, and as he was desperately driven with work it might be impossible for him to come to Waverly till the session had ended. It was, in fact, not till the first week in August that the session closed. Two days later Helen received a telegram from her husband saying that she might expect him early in the evening; this was soon followed by another message announcing that he had been detained in New York. He came late one afternoon; but he stayed only for the night, returning to New York in the morning. The work in preparation for the Fall campaign had begun unusually early, he said. An enormous amount of work had to be done, and he must stay in town, to be sure it was done right. Helen offered to leave the children with Miss Munroe and open the New York house for him, but he refused, insisting that she needed the rest. Besides, he could be perfectly comfortable at the club. For the next few weeks he would have to be in consultation with people day and night. He was so busy that he had been unable to give Guy Fullerton a holiday, or rather, Guy had refused to take one. He often spoke with praise of Guy’s devotion. During the rest of the Summer he ran up to Waverly several times, rarely staying for more than a day. His visits were painful to them both, though they delighted the children. When September came Helen made preparations for her return to New York. She wished to live under the same roof with her husband, though she might seldom see him. At times her absence from him, and the strangeness with which they greeted each other on meeting, terrified her. She would not confess to herself the fear that he would discover she was not indispensable to him; but in spite of the late September heat, it was with great relief that, a week before the nominating convention, she found herself with the children at the house in New York again. The opening of the New York house began the preparations for its closing. These Briggs observed without comment. At times, when, following his wife’s point of view, he realized the expense he was carrying, he felt appalled. He wondered how he had ever dared to undertake so much; he felt as if he were just emerging from a debauch of recklessness. What had he been thinking of? What had he expected to happen? He saw now that he had been relying on chance, like a gambler.