both to one of the little dinners in his rooms with which he paid his
social debts. These dinners were very popular, for he was a
connoisseur in wines, the dinner was sent from a French restaurant,
and he was never more entertaining than at his own table. His guests
were as carefully assorted as his wines, and if he did not know
intuitively whose minds and tastes were most in harmony, or what lady
did not happen to be speaking to another at the moment, he had always
the delicate hints of Mrs. McLane to guide him. She was his social
sponsor and vastly proud of him.




IX


Madeline went impassively to the dinner. His brilliancy had
impressed her but she was indifferent to everything these days and
her intellect was torpid; although when in society and under the
influence of the lights and wine she could be almost as animated as
ever. But the novelty of that society had worn thin long since; she
continued to go out partly as a matter of routine, more perhaps
because she had no other resource. She saw less of her husband than
ever, for his practice as well as his masculine acquaintance grew
with the city--and that was swarming over the hills of the north and
out toward the sand dunes of the west. But she was resigned, and
inappetent. She had even ceased to wish for children. The future
stretched before her interminable and dull. A railroad had been built
across the continent and she had asked permission recently of her
husband to visit her parents: her mother was now an invalid and Mr.