Potomac Park, within sight of the White House,
on which she kept a metaphysical eye, felt that this was the ideal way
for a man and woman to discuss their marriage--not coldly, but without
surging waves of emotion to blind their eyes. Marriage had not been
actually mentioned. Nothing definite had been said by either of them
when before five they came in to join Benny at tea. But Lydia had no
doubt of the significance of their talk. Like most clear-sighted
heiresses, she know, rationally, that her fortune was a part of her
charms; but like most human beings, she found it easy to believe that
she was loved for herself.

They were to go back to New York on the midnight train so that the
governor might be in time for his morning's work in the investigation,
but before going he was having a small dinner party. An extra man for
Benny, a distinguished member of the House, and the senator from his own
state--an old political ally--and his wife. His wife had been a
Washington woman of an old family, and now with her husband's money and
position her house was a place of some political importance.

From the moment the Framinghams arrived a cloud began to descend on
Lydia. She liked them both--the fresh-faced, white-haired, clever, wise
senator and his pretty, elegant wife--elegant, but a little more
elaborate than the same type in New York. Mrs. Framingham's hair was
more carefully curled, her dress a trifle richer and tighter, her jewels
more numerous than Lydia's or Miss Bennett's; but still Lydia recognized
her at once as an equal--a woman who had her own way socially in her own
setting.

She liked the Framinghams--it was Albee she liked less well. He was
different from the instant of their entrance. To use the language of the
nursery, he began to show off, not in connection with his success of the
morning--Lydia could have forgiven some vanity about that
performance--but about social matters, the opera, Miss Thorne's box, and
then--Lydia knew it was coming--the Pulsifers. He wanted Mrs. Framingham
to know that he had been asked to the Pulsifers'. He did it this way:

"You may imagine, Mrs. Framingham, how much flattered I feel that Miss
Thorne should have come on to the hearing, missing one of the most
brilliant parties of the season--yes, the Pulsifers'. Of course, as far
as I am concerned, it is a great relief to side-step that sort of thing.
Oh, I don't wish to appear ungracious. It was very kind of Mrs. Pulsifer
to in