A few moments later the women went into the drawing-room, and the conversation for the next half-hour was a languid babble of politics, dress, New York, the lady of the White House, and the play. Betty thought the women very nice, but less interesting than the men, possibly because they were women. They certainly looked more intelligent than the average one sat with during the trying half-hour after dinner; but their conversation was fragmentary, and they oddly suggested having left their personality at home and taken their shell out to dinner. Betty also was interested to observe that their composite expression was a curious mingling of fatigue, unselfishness, and peremptoriness. "What does it mean?" she asked of Lady Mary, with whom she stood apart for a moment. "Oh, they are worked to death,--paying calls, entertaining, receiving people on all sorts of business, and helping their husbands in various ways. They have no time to be selfish,--rich or poor,--and they have acquired the art of disposing of bores and detrimentals in short order. Even their own sort they pass on much in the fashion of royalty. How do you like Senator Burleigh?" "I never learned so much in two hours in my life. My head feels like a beehive." "I never saw him quite so devoted." "I thought you were occupied with Senator North." "I was, but my eyes and ears understand each other. He wants to meet you after dinner. He knows all about you." "He has been pointed out to me, but in those days when I was only interested in possible partners for the German. I do not recall him." "That is he, the second one." The men were entering the drawing-room. Betty was relieved that the political beard was not on Senator North. He wore only a very short moustache on his ugly powerful face. He stood for a few moments talking to his host, and Betty, to whom the political beard was immediately presented, gave him an occasional glance of exploration while her companion was assuring her, with neither a twang nor an accent, that he had long looked forward to the pleasure of meeting the famous Miss Betty Madison. Senator Shattuc was in his late fifties, but it was evident that the cares of Congress had not smothered his appreciation of a pretty woman. He had a strong face and an infantile complexion, and his beard sparkled with care. Senator Ward, who was presented a few moments later, told her that he had envied Burleigh throughout the long dinner. Betty decided that the senatorial manner certainly was agreeable.