"I don't know how you're here, but it's wonderful," he said, and left her.
The next day she scarcely saw him. She spent the time at the telephone or buying extras. All day long she busied herself with this, that, and the other thing, to keep her nerves in order. At seven Paul telephoned that he could not come to dine with her, but that he hoped to be back by ten. She forced herself to go to a nearby theatre to put in the early evening, but the only part of the entertainment that interested her was the election returns announced between the acts.
Back at the hotel at ten, but no Paul. She packed her bag, and sent out for two tickets on the midnight train to Boston. At half-past ten he came, worn to a shred.
"Well?" she cried, as he stood on the threshold.
"We've won, Barbara. It seems to be a landslide."
He came and stood before her.
"Are you glad?"
"Glad? Governor, aren't you?"
"I suppose so. It seems unimportant somehow. I want something else so much more."
"What?"