"Why, yes—if—"
"It is something I want very, very much."
"Well, all right, if—"
"Harry, I feel a little—hysterical, tonight, and—you will not refuse me, will you, Harry?"
Standing there, she saw the tableau in her own mind, and it looked strange. She was afraid of herself. She knew that she would do something foolish if she did not win this battle. She felt that overpowering fanaticism back within her raging restlessly. If she was not careful—
"But what is it you want?" asked her husband.
"I don't want you to go out tonight."
He laughed awkwardly.
"Nonsense, girl! The sub-committee on the cotton schedule meets tonight—very important; otherwise—"
She shuddered at the smooth lie and clasped him closer, putting her cheek to his.