proposition. Such a small thing as an uncertain election failed to
daunt the artistic fervor of Susie Carrie's fertile brain or to deter her
from making demands, however premature, on David the sympathetic.

And David Kildare dropped his head on the papers and groaned. The
Vision of a life-work rose up and menaced him and the words "sweat of his
brow" for the first time took on a concrete meaning. Such a good, old,
care-free existence he was losing, and--he seized his hat and fled
to the refreshment of bath, food and fresh raiment.

And on his way home he stopped in for a word with the major, whom he
found tired and on his way to take as much as he could of his usual nap.
He was seated in his chair by the table and Caroline Darrah sat near him,
listening eagerly to his story of some of the events in the day's
campaign. She rose as David entered and held out her hand to him with a
smile.

Every time David had looked at Caroline Darrah for the few days past a
sharp pain had cut into his heart and this afternoon she was so radiantly
lovely with sympathy and interest that for a moment he stood looking at
her with his eyes full of tenderness. Then he managed a bantering smile
and backed away a step or two from her, his hands behind him.

"No, you don't, beautiful," David sometimes ventured on Phoebe's name for
the girl, "you are so sweet in that frock that I'm afraid if I touch you
I'll stick. Somebody ought to label such a lollypop as you dangerous.
Call her off, Major!"

The major laughed at Caroline's blush and laid his fingers over her hand
that rested on the corner of the table near him.