Lorne Murchison's wish, which was indeed a
burning longing and necessity, to believe in the Dora
Milburn of his passion, had been under a strain since
the night on which he brought her the pledge which she
refused to wear. He had hardly been conscious of it in
the beginning, but by constant suggestion it had grown
into his knowledge, and for weeks he had taken poignant
account of it. His election had brought him no nearer a
settlement with her objection to letting the world know
of their relations. The immediate announcement that it
was to be disputed gave Dora another chance, and once
again postponed the assurance that he longed for with a
fever which was his own condemnation of her, if he could
have read that sign. For months he had seen so little of
her, had so altered his constant habit of going to the
Milburns', that his family talked of it, wondering among
themselves; and Stella indulged in hopeful speculations.
They did not wonder or speculate. at the Milburns'. It
was an axiom there that it is well to do nothing rashly.
Lorne, in the office on Market Street, had been replying
to Mr Fulke to the effect that the convention could hardly
be much longer postponed, but that as yet he had no word
of the date of it when the telephone bell rang and Mr
Farquharson's voice at the other end asked him to come
over to the committee room.
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