“I’ve known the same sort of thing to happen at home,” Frothingham assured her. “Once when I’d gone to a house only for dinner I had to stay until half-past four in the morning. The Prince of Wales was there, and he was just then mad about ‘bridge.’ He insisted on playing and playing. Several of us were asleep in the next room--the hostess was nodding over her cards.” “But he must have seen,” said Elsie. “Why didn’t he take the hint?” “Well, you see, the poor chap led such a deadly dull life in those days. When he found himself having a bit of fun he didn’t care a rap what it cost anyone else. It’s a mistake to bother with other people’s feelings, don’t you think?” “It only makes them supersensitive and hard to get on with,” replied Elsie. “I used to be considerate. Now I’m considerate only when it’s positively rude not to be. Besides, I must expect to buy my way through the world. I never had any friends--though I used to think I had, when I was a fool and didn’t know that just the sight of wealth makes human beings tie up their good instincts and turn loose the worst there is in them. Even when rich people are friendly with each other it’s usually in the hope of getting some sordid advantage.” “Do you apply that to yourself or only to others?” “It applies to me--it has applied to me ever since I found what sort of a world I was living in.” “I don’t believe it, my dear girl,” drawled Frothingham, the more convincingly for the lack of energy in his tone. And he gave her a quick, queer look through his eyeglass and was stolid again. She coloured just a little. “Oh, I suppose I’d be as big a goose as ever if I should fall in love again.” “Again?” She laughed. “I’ve been in love four times in the last four years, and almost in love three times more. That’s a poor record for a Washington girl--there are so many temptations, with all these fascinating foreigners streaming through. But I’m not counting the times I’ve been made love to in half a dozen modern languages--I and my father’s money.” “Possibly you were unjust to some of the men who’ve said they admired you. They may not have attached so much importance to your father’s money as--you do.” The thrust tickled her vanity--nature had given her an over-measure of vanity to compensate for her under-measure of charm. She looked pleased, though she said: “I don’t deceive myself as to myself.” “A man might have been attracted to you because you had money,” continued Frothingham dispassionately, “and might have stayed on for your own sake.” Elsie lifted her eyebrows. “Perhaps,” she said. “I’ll admit it’s possible.” “And, honestly now, do you pretend that you’d marry a man who had nothing but love to offer you? What has attracted you in the men you thought well of? You say there have been four--or, rather, four and three halves. Has any one of ’em been a poor devil of a nobody?”