"I will do my best," he said slowly. "I will fight to the last ditch for the things I believe in—for cleaner politics, for constructive patriotism, and for a fairer democracy. These are the big issues, and the little ends will flow from them."
As he finished, the clock in the hall struck twice and stopped, and at the same instant the door of the library opened slowly, and, to his amazement, he saw Mary standing beyond the threshold. She carried a candle in her hand, and by the wavering light, he saw that she was very pale and that her eyes were red as if she had been weeping.
"The lights were out. I thought you had gone upstairs," she said, with a catch in her voice.
"Do you want anything?"
"No, I couldn't sleep, so I came for a book."
With a hurried movement, she came over to the table and caught up a book without glancing at the title.
"Are you ill?" he asked. "Is anything the matter?"
"No, nothing. I am well, only I couldn't sleep."
"There is no trouble about Alan, is there? Have you quarrelled?"
"Oh, no, we haven't quarrelled." She was plainly impatient at his questioning. "Alan is all right. Really, it is nothing."