He did not tell her what he was thinking about. Instead, having caught himself just in time, he began telling her of what he had been thinking when his grandfather called him to the telephone. “Helen,” he said, “I want to ask your advice. I had an astonishing proposal made to me this afternoon. I must make a decision, I must say yes or no, and I'm not sure which to say.” She looked up at him inquiringly. “This afternoon,” he went on, “Doctor Parker called me into his office. There was a group of men there, prominent men in politics from about the country; Judge Baxter from Ostable was there, and Captain Warren from South Denboro, and others like them. What do you suppose they want me to do?” “I can't imagine.” “They offer me the party nomination for Congress from this section. That is, of course, they want me to permit my name to stand and they seem sure my nomination will be confirmed by the voters. The nomination, they say, is equivalent to election. They seem certain of it. . . . And they were insistent that I accept.” “Oh--oh, Albert!” “Yes. They said a good many flattering things, things I should like to believe. They said my war record and my writing and all that had made me a prominent man in the county--Please don't think I take any stock in that--” “But _I_ do. Go on.” “Well, that is all. They seemed confident that I would make a good congressman. I am not so sure. Of course the thing . . . well, it does tempt me, I confess. I could keep on with my writing, of course. I should have to leave the home people for a part of the year, but I could be with them or near them the rest. And . . . well, Helen, I--I think I should like the job. Just now, when America needs Americans and the thing that isn't American must be fought, I should like--if I were sure I was capable of it--” “Oh, but you are--you ARE.” “Do you really think so? Would you like to have me try?” He felt her arm tremble upon his. She drew a long breath. “Oh, I should be so PROUD!” she breathed. There was a quiver in her voice, almost a sob. He bent toward her. She was looking off toward the sea, the moonlight upon her face was like a glory, her eyes were shining--and there were tears in them. His heart throbbed wildly. “Helen!” he cried. “Helen!” She turned and looked up into his face. The next moment her own face was hidden against his breast, his arms were about her, and . . . and the risk, the risk he had feared to take, was taken. They walked home after a time, but it was a slow, a very slow walk with many interruptions. “Oh, Helen,” he kept saying, “I don't see how you can. How can you? In spite of it all. I--I treated you so badly. I was SUCH an idiot. And you really care? You really do?” She laughed happily. “I really do . . . and . . . and I really have, all the time.” “Always?” “Always.”