the measure, for the bill was clearly in the interest of monopoly, and though her nerves were all on edge with excitement over the impending election of a Senator, she had not interfered because she took for granted that it was unnecessary.  Even when Lyons, after reading the article in the Sentinel, had dropped the remark that the measure was really harmless and the outcry against it unwarranted, she had supposed that he was merely seeking to be magnanimous.  She had forgotten this speech until it was recalled by Lyons’s obvious state of worry during the last few days.  She had noticed this at first without special concern, believing it due to the malicious insinuations of Stringer.  Now that the bill was before him for signature there could be no question as to his action.  Nevertheless her heart had suddenly been assailed by a horrible doubt, and straightway her sense of duty as a wife and of duty to herself had sought assurance in a crucial inquiry.

“I was going to speak to you about that this evening.  I wish to tell you the reasons which oblige me to sign the bill,” he answered.  Lyons’s manner was subdued and limp.  Even his phraseology had been stripped of its stateliness.

“Sign the bill?” gasped Selma.  “If you sign it, you will lose the senatorship.”  She spoke like a prophetess, and her steely eyes snapped.

“That is liable to be the consequence I know.  I will explain to you, Selma.  You will see that I am bound in honor and cannot help myself.”

“In honor?  You are bound in honor to your party—­bound in honor to me to veto it.”

“Wait a minute, Selma.  You must hear my reasons.  Before I was nominated for Governor I gave Horace Elton my word, man to man, that I would sign this gas bill.  It is his bill.  I promised, if I were elected Governor, not to veto it.  At the time, I—­I was financially embarrassed.  I did not tell you because I was unwilling to distress you, but—­er—­my affairs in New York were in disorder, and I had notes here coming due.  Nothing was said about money matters between Elton and me until he had agreed to support me as Governor.  Then he offered to help me, and I accepted his aid.  Don’t you see that I cannot help myself?  That I must sign the bill?”

Selma had listened in amazement.  “It’s a trap,” she murmured.  “Horace Elton has led you into a trap.”  The thought that Elton’s politeness to her was a blind, and that she had been made sport of, took precedence in her resentment even of the annoyance caused her by her husband’s deceit.

“Why did you conceal all this from me?” she asked, tragically.

“I should not have done so, perhaps.”

“If you had told me, this difficulty never would have arisen.  Pshaw!  It is not a real difficulty.  Surely you must throw Elton over.  Surely you must veto the bill.”