episodes would come, would pass, would recur at intervals; but the
routine of her life must be lived. And if these episodes were to
recur the practical must not be neglected. "It's by neglecting the
practical that so many wives come to grief," reflected she. And
the first mandate of the practical was that he must be rescued
from that vulgar political game, which meant poverty and low
associations and tormenting uncertainties. He must be got where
his talents would have their due, their reward. But subtly guiding
him into the way that would be best for him was a far different
matter from what she had been planning up to last night's
moonrise--was as abysmally separated from its selfish hypocrisy as
love from hate. She would persist in her purpose, but how changed
the motive!

She heard him stirring in her--no, THEIR room. Her face lighted
up, her eyes sparkled. She ran to the mirror for a final primp
before he should see her. She was more than pleased with the image
she saw reflected there. "I never looked better in my life--never
so well. I'm glad I kept back this particular dress. He's sure to
like it, and it certainly is becoming to me--the best-fitting
skirt I ever had--what good lines it has about the hips." She
startled at a knock upon the door. She rushed away from the
mirror. He had small physical vanity himself--she had never known
any one with so little. He had shown that he thought she had no
vanity of that kind, either, and he would doubtless misunderstand
her solicitude about her personal appearance. Anyhow, of all
mornings this would be the worst for him to catch her at the
glass.

"Yes?" she called.