“Yes, Constance Thorndyke knows a great deal. But you see her husband is in the Senate and so she has to have some sorts of people at her house that I don’t have. However, I know she is really a friend of Anne Clavering, and it is perfectly plain that although Miss Clavering is a _nouveau riche_ herself, she hasn’t any overwhelming respect for her own ‘order,’ as Ouida would say. She is ten times more flattered to be entertained by people like the Thorndykes and myself than by the richest pork–packing or dry–goods family in Washington.” “Certainly she is, as a woman of sense would be.” “As for that divorcée, Élise Denman, and that younger girl, Lydia, they are the two greatest scamps, as they are the two handsomest women, in this town. They are not deficient in their own peculiar sort of sense and courage, and they have whipped the Brentwood–Baldwins handsomely about that pew in St. John’s Church. The religion of these brand–new people is the most diverting thing about them, next to their morals!” “They also are the sons of God!” replied Baskerville, quoting. “Don’t believe that for a moment! Most of ’em are sons and daughters of Satan and nobody else. If ever the Episcopal Church—the Anglican Church, they call it—comes out squarely against divorce, I don’t know where it will land the smart set or what they will do for a religion. They will have to become esoteric Buddhists or something of the sort. At present a pew in a fashionable church is the very first round on the social ladder. I have gone to St. John’s all my life, and my father was one of the original pew–holders; but I declare, if I could find a well–warmed Episcopal church in southeast Washington or Anacostia even, I’d go to it.” “No, you wouldn’t.” “Yes, I would. I don’t know how the dispute with the Brentwood–Baldwins came about, but there was a pew near the President’s which both the Claverings and the Brentwood–Baldwins wanted, and those two pagan daughters of Senator Clavering got it. You ought to have seen the Brentwood–Baldwin girl and those other two girls pass each other last Sunday morning coming out of church; they exchanged looks which were equivalent to a slap in the face.” “And you wouldn’t have missed seeing it for worlds.” “Why, it’s true I like to see a fight.” “For pure love of fighting I never saw your equal, Sara Luttrell.” “I come by it honestly. I am of as good fighting stock as you are, Richard Baskerville. But the Clavering–Brentwood–Baldwin row is not the only religious war in this town. You know Mrs. James Van Cortlandt Skinner—I know her husband was originally Jim Skinner before he went to glory.” “Now who told you that?”