"And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you are
taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith.

The candidate smiled tolerantly.

"If unequivocal opposition is 'right'----"

"Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid,
Genevieve!"

The reporters came.

* * * * *

It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for
dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout,
George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with the
new dignity.

To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong,
his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had never
been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now a public
figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely, Governor;
then--well, Senator; and finally--it was possible--some one had to
be--President of the United States. He had begun, this day, by making a
great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on moral principle,
and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the right.

At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out into
the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk.