The danger was as great as ever. Her brain had sobered, but her heart
had not. Separation and the absence of all communication--they had
agreed not to correspond--had strengthened and intensified a love that
had been half quiescent so long as its superficial wants were
gratified. Troubled times were coming when he would need her, would
seek her whenever he could, and yet when their meetings must be short
and unsatisfactory. When hours are no longer possible, minutes become
precious, and the more precious the more dangerous. If she were older,
if tragedy and thought had sobered and matured her character, if she
were deprived of the protection of the lighter moods of her mind,
would not the danger be greater still? The childish remnant upon which
she had instinctively relied had gone out of her, she had a deeper and
grimmer knowledge of what life would be without the man who had
conquered her through her highest ideals and most imperious needs; and
of what it would be with him.

She had no intention of making a problem out of the matter, constantly
as her mind dwelt upon the future. Senator North had told her once
that problems fled when the time for action began. She supposed that
one of two things would happen after her return to Washington: great
events would absorb his mind and leave him with neither the desire nor
the time for more than an occasional friendly hour with her; or after
a conscientious attempt to take up their relationship on the old lines
and give each other the companionship both needed, all intercourse
would abruptly cease.




II