"You want something of me?"
There is silence for a moment while they look into each other's faces. Then she bursts out excitedly:
"Yes, I want something of you. I want you to take me in your arms. I want you to forget that you are a United States Senator for an hour. I want you to forget that any one lives but you and me. I want you to say, 'Helen, I love you.' I want convincing demonstration that I am your wife as well as your lobbyist."
There is a sting in every word. She is on her feet, flashing her emotion at him with her beautiful eyes.
Braine half rises from his chair, and then sinks back. His face grows tender. He says kindly:
"Come here, dear. I do love you. I know I have been cold and preoccupied lately, but you should understand that I love you, Helen, better than my life. This is not like you, dear. You are tired and nervous. All this business is new to you. I am proud of you, little one. I have unlimited confidence in you. There—there," as she sobs violently in his arms; "you are worn out, dear. You must not sit up. To-morrow we will talk it all over. Kiss me good night, dear—"
She suddenly tightens her arms around him. She sobs:
"Not good night, Ed. Not good night. I must not be put off so to-night, dearest. I—I love you so."
She is kissing his hands and face excitedly, and is speaking in little broken phrases. All her blood seems to have become a quivering flame.
Braine soothes her gently and says: