Conny, though intent upon the Senator, kept an eye upon Woodyard,
introducing him to the distinguished man, thinking, no doubt, that the
Chairman of the A. and P. Board might be useful to the young lawyer. For
whatever she might be to women, this large blond creature with white neck,
voluptuous lips, and slow gaze from childlike eyes had the power of drawing
males to her, a power despised and also envied by women. Those simple eyes
seemed always to seek information about obvious matters. But behind the
eyes Conny was thinking, 'It's rather queer, this crowd. And these Prices
with all their money might do so much better. That Fosdick is a silly
fellow. The Senator is worn of course, but still important!' And yet Conny,
with all her sureness, did not know all her own mental processes. For she,
too, was really looking for a mate, weighing, estimating men to that end,
and some day she would come to a conclusion,--would take a man, Woodyard or
another, giving him her very handsome person, and her intelligence, in
exchange for certain definite powers of brain and will.

The bride and groom entered the tent at last. Isabelle, in a renewed glow
of triumph, stepped over to the table and with her husband's assistance
plunged a knife into the huge cake, while her health was being drunk with
cheers. As she firmly cut out a tiny piece, she exposed a thin but
beautifully moulded arm.

"Handsome girl," the Senator murmured in Conny's ear. "Must be some sore
hearts here to-day. I don't see how such a beauty could escape until she
was twenty-six. But girls want their fling these days, same as the men!"

"Toast! Toast the bride!" came voices from all sides, while the waiters
hurried here and there slopping the wine into empty glasses.