“That’s what I thought. It’s a custom or rite or something like that. A stupid amusement.” “But cheap,” I said. “And those who vote for Populists usually havent much money.” “Maybe that’s why,” she answered. “If they found more useful things to do they’d earn money; then they wouldnt vote for Populists.” “A virtuous circle. If everyone voted Whig we’d all be rich as Whigs.” She shrugged her shoulders, a gesture I found pleasing. “It’s easy enough to be envious of those who are better off; it’s a lot harder to become better off yourself.” “I can’t argue with you on that, Miss ... um ...?” “Why Mister Populist, do ladies always tell you their names when you step on their feet?” “I’m not usually lucky enough to find feet to step on that have lovely ladies attached,” I answered boldly. “I won’t deny Populist leanings, but my name is really Hodge Backmaker.” Hers was Tirzah Vame, and she was indentured to a family of wealthy Whigs who owned a handsome modern castiron and concrete house near the Reservoir at Forty-second Street and Fifth Avenue. She had used the apt word “curious” in characterizing herself but it was, as I soon found out, a cold and inflexible curiosity which explored only what she thought might be useful or which impressed her as foolish. She was interested in the nature of anything fashionable or popular or much talked of, the idea of being concerned with anything even vaguely abstract struck her as preposterous. She had indented, not out of stark economic necessity, but calculatedly, believing she could achieve economic security through indenture. This seemed paradoxical to me, even when I contrasted my “free” condition with her bound one. Certainly she seemed to have minimum restriction on her time; soon after our introduction at the rally she was meeting me almost every evening in Reservoir Square where we sat for hours talking on a bench or walking briskly when the autumn weather chilled our blood. I did not long flatter myself that her interest—perhaps tolerance would be a better word—was due to any strong attraction exerted by me. If anything she was, I think, slightly repelled by my physical presence, which carried to her some connotation of ordinary surroundings and contrasted with the well-fed smooth surfaces of her employers and their friends. The first time I kissed her she shuddered slightly; then, closing her eyes, she allowed me to kiss her again. She did not resist me when I pressed my lovemaking; she led me quietly to her room in the big house on my transparent plea that the outdoors was now too cold even for conversation. I was no accomplished seducer, but even in my awkward eagerness I could see she had made up her mind I was to succeed.