She saw the act; but still she strove until he was
content and laughing; then coming round back of his chair, she placed
her arms about his neck.
"Harry, will you do me a favor?"
"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.
"Harry," she pleaded, "just this once--for me."
He disengaged himself, half impatiently, and rose, glancing at the
clock. It was nearly nine. A feeling of desperation came over her.
"Harry," she asked again as he slipped on his coat.
"Don't be foolish," he growled.
"Just this once--Harry--I--" But the door banged to, and he was gone.
She stood looking at the closed door a moment.
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