She ignores the glance.
"Why?" impatiently. "Why? Because the one man whose approval and assistance is needful will not approve nor assist."
A pause. "Who is it?" watching her.
"Who is it? I don't know. How do you suppose I know? I know nothing of politics. I hear Ed fret and look anxious. Now and then he condescends to drop a word—but I can't understand if he does. I don't know who it is. I only know it is some one."
Everet looks back at the fire. She has not flinched once. She speaks with the ring of truth in her voice. He has been in this woman's society almost constantly for weeks, and she has never mentioned anything pertaining to politics or "business." He believes that those subjects are beyond her comprehension.
He looks back at her. He wonders if it is possible that Braine has not told her that he is the needful man. As he looks at her sweet, troubled face, he decides that it is possible; that she is innocent.
"Would you like to know the man? Would it be of any interest to you?"
She turns to him with a sudden excited movement. She impulsively lays her hand on his knee, and leans lightly against him.
"Would it? Ah! I would go to him; I would say: You do not know all that this means to me—how madly I want this thing to succeed. I would implore him to listen to me. I—"
Her intensity of emotion is contagious, and Everet listens to her, scarcely comprehending her words, but realizing two facts, both new to him, that he loves this woman, and has loved her all these weeks without knowing it, and that the one present, overmastering desire of her soul is to accomplish this end of winning him to second Braine's scheme. His conscience would forbid if it were awake, but his passion for this woman—the wife of his friend—has drugged it to sleep.