"No," he said, delighted with his little deception. "It's yours."
"Mine!" exclaimed Jennie. "Mine! Oh, isn't it lovely!"
"Do you think so?" he said.
Her delight touched and pleased him immensely.
Her face shone with light and her eyes fairly danced.
"That's yours," he said. "See that you wear it now, and don't lose it."
"You're so good!" she exclaimed.
"No," he said, but he held her at arm's length by the waist, to make up his mind what his reward should be.
Slowly he drew her toward him until, when very close, she put her arms about his neck, and laid her cheek in gratitude against his own.
This was the quintessence of pleasure for him.
He felt as he had been longing to feel for years.
The progress of his idyl suffered a check when the great senatorial fight came on in the Legislature.
Attacked by a combination of rivals, Brander was given the fight of his life.
To his amazement he discovered that a great railroad corporation, which had always been friendly, was secretly throwing its strength in behalf of an already too powerful candidate.
Shocked by this defection, he was thrown alternately into the deepest gloom and into paroxysms of wrath.
These slings of fortune, however lightly he pretended to receive them, never failed to lacerate him.
It had been long since he had suffered a defeat—too long.
During this period Jennie received her earliest lesson in the vagaries of men.
For two weeks she did not even see him, and one evening, after an extremely comfortless conference with his leader, he met her with the most chilling formality.
When she knocked at his door he only troubled to open it a foot, exclaiming almost harshly:
"I can't bother about the clothes to-night. Come tomorrow."
Jennie retreated, shocked and surprised by this reception.
She did not know what to think of it.
He was restored on the instant to his far-off, mighty throne, and left to rule in peace.
Why should he not withdraw the light of his countenance if it pleased him.
But why—
A day or two later he repented mildly, but had no time to readjust matters.
His washing was taken and delivered with considerable formality, and he went on toiling forgetfully, until at last he was miserably defeated by two votes.
Astounded by this result, he lapsed into gloomy dejection of soul.
What was he to do now?
Into this atmosphere came Jennie, bringing with her the lightness and comfort of her own hopeful disposition.
Nagged to desperation by his thoughts, Brander first talked to her to amuse himself; but soon his distress imperceptibly took flight; he found himself actually smiling.
"Ah, Jennie," he said, speaking to her as he might have done to a child, "youth is on your side.
You possess the most valuable thing in life." "Do I?"
"Yes, but you don't realize it.
You never will until it is too late."
"I love that girl," he thought to himself that night.
"I wish I could have her with me always."
But fortune had another fling for him to endure.
It got about the hotel that Jennie was, to use the mildest expression, conducting herself strangely.
A girl who carries washing must expect criticism if anything not befitting her station is observed in her apparel.
Jennie was seen wearing the gold watch.
Her mother was informed by the housekeeper of the state of things.
"I thought I'd speak to you about it," she said. "People are talking. You'd better not let your daughter go to his room for the laundry."
Mrs. Gerhardt was too astonished and hurt for utterance.
Jennie had told her nothing, but even now she did not believe there was anything to tell.
The watch had been both approved of and admired by her.
She had not thought that it was endangering her daughter's reputation.
Going home she worried almost incessantly, and talked with Jennie about it.
The latter did not admit the implication that things had gone too far.