Genevieve shrugged, a faint ghost of a shrug. Had George been less absorbed in his own mental discomforts, he would have discovered there and then that the matter of his speech, not the manner of his delivery, was what held his wife's attention. No longer could rounded periods and eloquent sophistry hide from her his thoughts and intentions. A telephone call interrupted the meal. He answered it with relief, bowing a hurried, self-important excuse to the ladies. But the voice that came over the wire was not modulated in tones of flattery. "Say," drawled the campaign manager, "you'd better get a hump on, and come over here to headquarters. There's a couple of gents here who want a word with you." The tone was ominous, and George stiffened. "Very well, I'll be right over. But you can pretty well tell them where I stand on the main issues. Who's at headquarters?" A snort of disgust greeted the inquiry. The snort told George that seasoned campaigners did not use the telephone with such casual lack of circumspection. The words were in like manner enlightening. "Well, there might be Mr. Julius Caesar, and then again Mr. George Washington might drop in. What I'm putting you wise to," he added sharply, "is that you'd better get on to your job." There was a click as of a receiver hung up with a jerk, and a subdued giggle that testified to the innocent attention of the telephone operator. With but a pale reflection of his usual courtesy the harassed candidate left the bosom of his family. No sooner had he taken his departure than the bosom heaved. "My dear girl," said Alys, "if you take that tone with your husband you'll never hold him--never. Men won't stand for it. You're only hurting yourself." "What tone?" Genevieve inquired as she rose calmly and led the way to the drawing-room. "I mean"--Mrs. Brewster-Smith slipped a firm, white hand across Genevieve's shoulders--"you shouldn't try to force issues. It looks as if you didn't have confidence in your husband, and men, to _do_ and _be_ their best, must feel perfect trust from the woman they love. You don't mind my being so frank, dear, but we women must help one another--by our experience and our intuitions." Genevieve looked at her. Oblique angles had become irritatingly fascinating. "I'm beginning to think so more and more," she replied. "It's for your own good, dear," Alys smiled. "Yes," Genevieve agreed. "I understand. Things that hurt are often for our good, aren't they? We have to be _made_ to realize facts really to know them." "Coffee, dear?" inquired Alys, assuming the duties of hostess. Genevieve shook her head. "No. I find I've been rather wakeful of late: perhaps it's coffee. Excuse me. I must telephone." A moment later she returned beaming. "I have borrowed a car for tomorrow, and I want you and Emelene to come with me for a little spin. We ought to have a bright day; the night is wonderful. Poor George," she sighed, "I wish he didn't have to be away so much."