The most potent argument for letting things drift was his own craving for her. She was becoming necessary to him. Whenever he thought of her it was with a tender glow. Her soft long-lashed eyes would come between him and the editorial he was writing. A dozen times a day he could see a picture of the tilted little coaxing mouth. The gurgle of her laughter called to him for hours before he left the office. He got into the habit of talking to her about the things that were troubling him--the tactics of the enemy, the desertion of friends, the dubious issue of the campaign. Curled up in a big chair, her whole attention absorbed in what he was saying Nellie made a good listener. If she did not show a full understanding of the situation, he could always sense her ready sympathy. Her naive, indignant loyalty was touching. “I read what the _Advocate_ said about you today,” she told him one night, a tide of color in her cheeks. “It was horrid. As if anybody would believe it.” “I'm afraid a good many people do,” he said gravely. “Nobody who knows you,” she protested stoutly. “Yes, some who know me.” He let his eyes dwell on her. It was easy to see how undisciplined of life she was, save where its material aspects had come into impact with her on the economic side. “None of your real friends.” “How many real friends has a man--friends who will stand by him no matter how unpopular he is?” “I don't know. I should think you'd have lots of them.” He shook his head, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “Not many. They keep their chocolate and sandwiches for folks whose trolley do'esn't fly the wire.” “What wire?” she asked, her forehead knitted to a question. “Oh, the wire that's over the tracks of respectability and vested interests and special privilege.” She had been looking at him, but now her gaze went to the fire with that slow tilt of the chin he liked. Another color wave swept the oval of the soft cheeks. “You've got more friends than you think,” she said in a low voice. “I've got one little friend I wouldn't like to lose.” She did not speak and his hand moved forward to cover hers. Instantly a wild and insurgent emotion tingled through him. He felt himself trembling and could not steady his nerves. Without a word Nellie looked up and their eyes met. Something electric flashed from one to another. Her shy fear of him was adorable. “Oh, don't, don't!” she murmured. “What will you think of me now?” He had leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Jeff sprang to his feet, the muscles in his lean cheeks standing out. Some bell of warning was ringing in him. He was a man, young and desirous, subject to all the frailties of his sex, holding experiences in his past that had left him far from a puritan. And she was a woman, of unschooled impulses, with unsuspected banked passions, an innocent creature in whom primeval physical life rioted.