“Not to-night, Gage,” she repeated. In her voice was a droop of weariness that was unmistakable.
“Why not to-night? Because you want to save yourself fresh for your public to-morrow? You don’t want to be bothered with a husband and his annoyances?”
“Not to-night because you aren’t in the right mood.”
He still held her hand.
“But suppose I want to go into it to-night. There’ll be no better time. Day after to-morrow my wife goes to the National Convention to dazzle the American public. Suppose she sets her house in order first. Every good politician does that, Helen.”
“There’s a devil in you, Gage, isn’t there?”
“A hundred, and every one bred by you. Tell me, what you were referring to as my escapades? Tell me.”
He shook her a little. She felt a hairpin loosened and the indignity suddenly made her furious.
“Let me go.”
“I will not let you go. I want you to tell me.”