there, but she didn't wear a low-necked gown like the other women, and that embarrassed her. In the end she found out more things than I did. She said to me before the season was over:
"'Julian, it's not being rich that makes people in Washington. If it were, we shouldn't mind not being in it. But there are plenty of people, like the Senator, who have the money and the wish to make a stir socially—but they can't, while a plenty of poor ones do. Look at Mr. Thorndyke'—she hit upon you the first man—'he's asked everywhere, and he says he is as poor as a church-mouse. No, Julian, to be as you would wish to be here, needs not only the money we haven't got, but something else we haven't got and can't acquire, so let's give it up. Another winter I'll stay in Circleville—it will be better for the children, better for me, better for you'—for I own up to having been deuced surly all that winter. So we adopted that plan, and Annette has never been to Washington since. But—I'll confess this, too—I had from the beginning a fancy to see the inside of those houses where the people live who make up this world of Washington. It wasn't merely idle curiosity. I was con-
