"Wasn't it the awfullest rot?" demanded the spinster, pounding out a row of periods for emphasis. "And he's got to be made to eat his words," said Mr. Evans, wisely taking the same by-path away from the one subject in all the world that really mattered. "Who could make him?" "I could, if I tried." It came in quiet, masterful tones that almost convinced the speaker himself. "Oh, Pen, if you could! Wouldn't that be a victory, though? If you only could----" "Well, if I only could--and if I do?" His intention was too pointed to be ignored. "Oh, _that_!" He winced at the belittling "that." "Of course I couldn't promise--anyway I don't believe you could ever do it, so what's the use of being silly?" "But you will--will you promise, if I _do_ convert George? Answer the question, please!" Mr. Evans glared as only actual district attorneys have the right to. "Oh, what nonsense--but, well, I'll promise--I'll promise to promise to think very seriously about it indeed, if you bring George around." "Betty!" It was the voice of an able pleader and he half arose from his chair, his arms eloquent of purpose. "'Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. Now is the time for'--" wrote Miss Sheridan with dazzling fingers, and the pleader resumed his seat. "How will you bring him 'round," she then demanded. "Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising young diplomat moodily, smarting under the moment's defeat. "Serve him right for pulling all that old-fashioned nonsense," said Miss Sheridan, and accorded her employer a glance in which admiration for his prowess was not half concealed. "The words of a fool wise in his own folly," went on the encouraged Mr. Evans, and then, alas! a victim to the slight oratorical thrill these words brought him,--"honestly uttering what every last man believes and feels about woman in his heart and yet what no sane man running for office can say in public--here, what's the matter?" The latter clause had been evoked by the sight of a blazing Miss Sheridan, who now stood over him with fists tightly clenched. "Oh, oh, oh!" This was low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. "So that's what your convictions amount to! Then you do applaud him, every word of him, and you were deceiving me. Every man in his own heart, indeed. Thank heaven I found you out in time!" It may be said that Mr. Evans now cowered in his chair. The term is not too violent. He ventured to lift a hand in weak protest. "No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. I tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this great cause which--which--" Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased to blaze. Seated again before the typewriter she grinned at him with amused incredulity. "You nearly had me going, Pen."