and he was eager to minimize the possibility of danger. His
modesty made this last easy. Out of her kindness she was good to
him, but it was not to be expected that so pretty a girl would
fall in love with a man like him.

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."