while I was there. But I couldn't stand the strain until adjournment; I had to come to you."
Constance sat looking at him; pity, annoyance, and a kind of disgust struggled within her. This, then, was politics. Accomplished woman of the world that she was, this natural and untutored man thoroughly disconcerted her. If only she had not felt such pity for him! And while she was contemplating the spectacle of these elemental passions of hatred, disappointment, revenge, and self-seeking, Crane's eyes, fixed on her, lost some of their fury, and became more melancholy than angry, and he continued, as if thinking aloud:
"Suddenly I felt the desire to see you. You would know how insane was my folly, but you would not despise me for it. That's the greatest power in the world a woman has over a man: when he can show her all his heart, and she will pity him without scorn or contempt. Ah, if Fate had given me a wife like you, I could have reached the heights of greatness!"
At those words Constance Maitland moved a little closer to him so that she could bring him under the full effect of her large, clear gaze.
"I think," she said, in a cool, soft voice, with a re-
