"Your political suicide, James. And there is another side to it," continued Selma, pathetically. "My side. I wish you to think of that. I wish you to realize that, if you yield to this false notion of honor, you will interfere with the development of my life no less than your own. As you know, I think, I became your wife because I felt that as a public woman working, at your side in behalf of the high purposes in which we had a common sympathy, I should be a greater power for good than if I pursued alone my career as a writer and on the lecture platform. Until to-day I have felt sure that I had made no mistake--that we had made no mistake. Without disrespect to the dead, I may say that for the first time in my life marriage has meant to me what it should mean, and has tended to bring out the best which is in me. I have grown; I have developed; I have been recognized. We have both made progress. Only a few days ago I was rejoicing to think that when you became a United States Senator, there would be a noble field for my abilities as well as yours. We are called to high office, called to battle for great principles and to lead the nation to worthy things. And now, in a moment of mental blindness, you are threatening to spoil all. For my sake, if not for your own, James, be convinced that you do not see clearly. Do not snatch the cup of happiness from my lips just as at last it is full. Give me the chance to live my own life as I wish to live it." There was a brief silence. Lyons rose and let fall his hand on the table with impressive emphasis. His mobile face was working with emotion; his eyes were filled with tears. "I will veto the bill," he said, grandiloquently. "The claims of private honor must give way to the general welfare, and the demands of civilization. You have convinced me, Selma--my wife. My point of view was old-fashioned. Superior ethics permit no other solution of the problem. Superior ethics," he repeated, as though the phrase gave him comfort, "would not justify a statesman in sacrificing his party and his own powers--aye, and his political conscience--in order to keep a private compact. I shall veto the bill." "Thank God for that," she murmured. Lyons stepped forward and put his arm around her. "You shall live your own life as you desire, Selma. No act of mine shall spoil it." "Superior ethics taught you by your wife! Your poor, wise wife in whom you would not confide!" She tapped him playfully on his fat cheek. "Naughty boy!" "There are moments when a man sees through a glass, darkly," he answered, kissing her again. "This is a solemn decision for us, Selma. Heaven has willed that you should save me from my own errors, and my own blindness."