us from the other, except Kasson. He knew we were a "distinguished
party" because the papers said so. When we were being dealt out to our
rooms there was great confusion. Senator Sharon had an ancient _dame de
compagnie_--the head priestess--who made it a particular point to
dispose of Miss Clymer before any of the rest of us. She said, "Which
of these gents is your husband?" At which Miss C. blushed and found no
other answer than, "_None_." J. and I finally secured the same room,
because when Mr. S. in a moment of despair said, with an
all-comprehensive wave of his hand, "Gentlemen, please take your
wives," J. and I paired off. The Senator did not notice this little
detail, for when dinner was announced he said to J., "Will you please
take that young lady in to dinner?" pointing to me. Johan explained in
which relation he stood to the young lady. The Senator was not in the
least surprised, and merely answered: "Is that so? Well, then, take
some one else."

A semi-millionaire took me in. He told me all his early life of poverty
and threw in various reminiscences. I never knew the like of
millionaires for telling you of their former miseries. They always do!
When the ancient dame saw Mr. Kasson and me talking after dinner, she
said to us with a kittenish smile, "Husbands and wives mustn't talk
together." Hopeless! We did not even try to explain. The evening was
forlorn. There were many dreary drawing-rooms, horribly furnished, but
brilliantly lighted. A brawling musical box was supposed to enliven us.
We talked in that desultory way that one does with people whom you meet
for the first time and never want to meet again. Some of the
millionaires hovered among us, but failed to impress us either with
their past or present fortunes. Oh, joy! Bedtime came at last.