ttled back comfortably. "I feel so sorry for those poor
people," said she, absently sympathetic.

"But why?" demanded Jane. "WHY? Why should we be allowed to idle
while they have to slave? What have we done--what are we doing--to
entitle us to ease? What have they done to condemn them to pain and
toil?"

"You know very well, Jane, that we represent the finer side of life."

"Slop!" ejaculated Jane.

"For pity's sake, don't let's talk politics," wailed Martha. "I know
nothing about politics. I haven't any brains for that sort of thing."

"Is that politics?" inquired Jane. "I thought politics meant whether
the Democrats or the Republicans or the reformers were to get the
offices and the chance to steal."

"Everything's politics, nowadays," said Martha, comparing the color of
the material of her dress with the color of her fat white arm. "As
Hugo says, that Victor Dorn is dragging everything into politics--even
our private business of how we make and spend our own money."

Jane sat down abruptly. "Victor Dorn," she said in a strange voice.
"WHO is Victor Dorn? WHAT is Victor Dorn? It seems that I can hear of
nothing but Victor Dorn to-day."

"He's too low to talk about," said Martha, amiable and absent.

"Why?"

"Politics," replied Martha. "Really, he is horrid, Jane."

"To look at?"

"No--not to look at. He's handsome in a way. Not at all common
looking. You might take him for a gentleman, if you didn't know.
Still--he always dresses peculiarly--always wears soft hats. I think
soft hats are SO vulgar--don't you?"

"How hopelessly middle-class you are, Martha," mocked Jane.

"Hugo would as soon think of going in the street in a--in a--I don't
know what."

"Hugo is the finest flower of American gentleman. That is, he's the
quintessence of everything that's nice--and 'nasty.' I wish I were
married to him for a week. I love Hugo, but he gives me the creeps."
She rose and tramped restlessly about the room. "You both give me the
creeps. Everything conventional gives me the creeps. If I'm not
careful I'll dress myself in a long shirt, let down my hair and run
wild."

"What nonsense you do talk," said Martha composedly.

Jane sat down abruptly. "So I do!" she said. "I'm as poor a creature
as you at bottom. I simply like to beat against the bars of my cage to
make myself think I'm a wild, free bird by nature. If you opened the
door, I'd not fly out, but would hop meekly back to my per