orced upon her by Dudley's political aspirations, and Mrs.
Rann became to-day simply a heavier responsibility than usual. Her world
was full of Mrs. Ranns, and she braved them with dauntless spirits and
triumphant humour. As she buttoned her gloves on the way downstairs she
was conscious of a singularly mild recognition of the fact that the
world might have been the gainer had Mrs. Rann abided unborn.

But the fresh air restored her courage, and by the time she sat in Mrs.
Rann's drawing-room, face to face with her hostess, she was at ease with
herself and her surroundings. She gave out at once the peculiar social
atmosphere of her race; she uttered her gay little nothings with an
intimate air; she laughed good-humouredly at Mrs. Rann's gossip, and she
begged to see photographs of Mrs. Rann's babies. It was as if she had
immediately become the confidential adviser of Mrs. Rann's domestic
difficulties.

Mrs. Rann, herself, was little and plain and obsolete. She appeared to
have been left behind in the sixties, like words that have become vulgar
from disuse. She wore bracelets on her wrists, and her accent was as
flat as her ideas. Before the war--and even long after--nobody had heard
of the Ranns; they had arrived as suddenly as the electric lights or
the trolley cars. When Miss Chris had alluded to them as "new people,"
and Juliet Galt had declared that she "did not call there," Dudley had
thrown out an uncertain line to Eugenia. "Rann is a useful man, my
dear," he had said. "He may be of great help to me," and the next day
Eugenia had left her card. Where Dudley's ambitions led she cheerfully
followed.

"We are politicians," was her excuse to Juliet, "and we can't afford to
be exclusive. Of course, with Emma Carr and yourself it is different.
You may exclude half society if you please, and, in fact, you do; but
Dudley and I really don't mind. He wants something, and I, you know, was
born without the instinct of class."

So she sat in Mrs. Rann's drawing-room and received her confidences,
while Juliet and Emma Carr were gossiping across the street.

"The greatest trouble I have with Mr. Rann when he comes to town," said
Mrs. Rann, "is that he refuses to wear woollen socks. I don't know
whether Mr. Webb wears woollen socks or not."

Eugenia shook her head.

"I've no doubt he would be a better and a wiser man if he did," she
responded.

"Then he doesn't catch cold when he puts on thin ones with his dress
suit. N