she had seen him, and, now, as she turned to speak to him, she caught such a far-away expression on his face, that she rather studied it before she spoke to interrupt his thoughts. "Scarcely handsome," she said to herself, "but powerful." What she said was rather flippant, however. "Thinking of home and mother, Mr. Hart?" she inquired.
"Well, no; not exactly, Mrs. Trevellian," he answered composedly. "I possess neither."
"Pardon me, it was only your expression that led me to speak so foolishly," she said, a bit taken aback. "Really your mind was somewhere else. Your reply might prompt another question—you suggest that you are a mystery."
Hart laughed. "If you think so, I will help you solve me."
"No, you wouldn't," replied Mrs. Trevellian. "I'm of a curious temper, and you would answer my questions so cautiously, that I would learn nothing. But I won't begin now because we might be interrupted. Somehow I think your forte is politics."
It was the year of a presidential election; the country was all agog upon a question of a vital
