"That's all I can ask."
They sat in dynamic silence, intent on their diverse thoughts. He relaxed into restful satisfaction, havened again; her doubtful fancies strove to shape of crumbling material some firm future for them both.
Her words came with difficulty. "What you ought to do, Pell, is to get work with the Federal Mining Commission. Washington outlooks are broader than Adamsville; particularly in war-time. That's your chance."
Worn with multiplied disappointments, he was unable to follow her enthusiasm. "We couldn't——"
She filled in details. "Senator Johnson would put in a word for you. Congressman Head's practically a socialist. Why not get it?"
"If you realized how downhearted——"
"You write to-morrow." She smoothed his tousled hair with the old familiar gesture. "It's an endless fight, dear."
"I think you'd better sell the car," she told him, the morning the federal commission arrived. "You may be sent anywhere now—our bank balance is low." She stopped halfway down the stairs, to wipe off a picture dusty from its weeks of neglect.
"It's fine to be back in harness again!"
"Marital, Pell?"