a view into the paradise of Constance Maitland's company.
"And as for my streak of luck, as you call it, I intend to devote all my powers to my work, so that no matter what other committee makes a fool of itself, the Committee on Foreign Affairs won't—at least through its chairman," Crane continued.
"It's easy enough to steer that committee when everything is peaceful," answered Thorndyke, meaning to take the new chairman down a peg. "And it's a great deal easier when we get into a continental mess as we are now. Wait until you get on the Ways and Means, or Committee on Elections, or Banking and Currency, if you want to have a little Gehenna of your own on earth. Good-night."
Thorndyke sat up smoking until after two o'clock. His thoughts were not concerned with Crane's political future, nor with his own either, nor with the continental mess. He was thinking about that dead-and-gone time, and how far away it was; the moderns did not make love through the medium of sentimental songs to the guitar and to stanzas from Childe Harold. They preferred ragtime on the mandolin and the Rubáiyát of Omar
