"Why not? Is it any worse for a woman than for a man?""I don't know why not," replied Olivia."There must be another reason than because I don't do it, and didn't think ladies did.But that's the only reason I can give just now.""What do you think of Langdon?" asked Pauline.
"I guess my sense of humor's defective.I don't like the sort of jest he seems to excel in.""I fancy it wasn't altogether a jest," said Pauline."I don't inquire into those matters any more.I used to, but--the more Isaw, the worse it was.Tricks and traps and squeezes and--oh, business is all vulgar and low.It's necessary, I suppose, but it's repulsive to me." She paused, then added carelessly, yet with a certain deliberateness, "I never meddle with Mr.Dumont, nor he with me."Olivia wished to protest against Pauline's view of business.
But--how could she without seeming to attack, indeed, without attacking, her cousin's husband?
Dumont brought Fanshaw up in his automobile, Herron remaining at the offices for half an hour to give the newspapers a carefully considered account of the much-discussed "merger" of the manufacturers of low-grade woolens.Herron had objected to any statement."It's our private business," he said."Let them howl.The fewer facts they have, the sooner they'll stop howling." But Dumont held firm for publicity."There's no such thing as a private business nowadays," he replied.
"Besides, don't we want the public to take part of our stock?
What's the use of acting shady--you've avoided the legal obstacles, haven't you? Let's tell the public frankly all we want it to know, and it'll think it knows all there is to know."The whole party met in the drawing-room at a quarter-past eight, Langdon the last to come down--Olivia was uncertain whether or not she was unjust to him when she suspected design in his late entrance, the handsomest and the best-dressed man of the company.
He looked cynically at Dumont."Well, fellow pirate: how go our plans for a merry winter for the poor?""Ass!" muttered Herron to Olivia, who happened to, be nearest him."He fancies impudence is wit.He's devoid of moral sense or even of decency.He's a traitor to his class and shouldn't be tolerated in it."Dumont was laughingly answering Langdon in his own vein.
"Splendidly," he replied, "thanks to our worthy chaplain, Herron, who secures us the blessing and protection of the law.""That gives me an appetite!" exclaimed Langdon."I feared something might miscarry in these last hours of our months of plotting.Heaven be praised, the people won't have so much to waste hereafter.I'm proud to be in one of the many noble bands that are struggling to save them from themselves."But Dumont had turned away from him; so he dropped into Mrs.
Herron's discussion with Mrs.Fanshaw on their proposed trip to the Mediterranean.Dinner was announced and he was put between Mrs.Herron and Olivia, with Dumont on her right.It was a round table and Olivia's eyes lingered upon its details--the embroidered cloth with real lace in the center, the graceful antique silver candlesticks, the tall vases filled with enormous roses--everything exquisitely simple and tasteful.
Langdon talked with her until Mrs.Herron, impatient at his neglect, caught his eye and compelled his attention.Dumont, seeing that Olivia was free, drew her into his conversation with Mrs.Fanshaw; and then Mrs.Fanshaw began to talk with Mr.
