"Ted Rodgers and Leigh Wallace," briefly. "If it goes on much longer, I will speak to Cousin Susan Baird. Hello, what did you do that for?" as the room was suddenly plunged in darkness. A second later the light flashed up. "I pulled the wrong string," Nina explained as she lighted both sides of the electric lamp. Potter paused undecidedly, then rose and, going over to the packing case, tossed excelsior and paper back into it and pushed it behind a screen. When he turned back, he saw Nina deftly rearranging the ornaments and papers on his flat top desk. In silence he watched her graceful movements and the play of the lamplight on her hair which shone like spun gold under its rays. It would have taken a more observant man than her husband to have discovered that nature's art had been supplemented by the rouge pot. No wrinkles marred the soft pink and white tint of her complexion, and few would have guessed that she had passed her thirtieth birthday. Looking up, Nina caught her husband's gaze and flushed faintly. "I hope Mr. Rodgers won't stay long," she began, and checked herself hastily as Moto ushered in their caller. "So very glad to see you, Mr. Rodgers," she exclaimed, extending her hand, which rested in his for a fraction of a second and was withdrawn. At the touch of her cold fingers, Rodgers looked intently at her. He still found it hard to realize that the fashionably gowned woman before him was Ben Potter's wife. Ben a Benedict! The mere idea had provoked a smile, and the announcement of the marriage in cold print had produced a burst of merriment, and the silent hope that Ben had found a motherly soul to run his house for him. Instead of which, with the perversity of Fate, Ben Potter had selected a wife at least fifteen years his junior, who would most certainly enjoy the social life of Washington to the full. Potter had formed a strong attachment for the younger man when spending a winter in San Francisco three years before and Rodgers had been a frequent visitor since his arrival in Washington. His visits, as Potter shrewdly noted, were generally timed to find Kitty Baird with her cousins, and ended in his escorting her home. "I missed you both at Mrs. Parsons' tea, so dropped in for a chat," Rodgers remarked, accepting a cigar from Potter as Nina perched herself on one end of the lounge. "Why weren't you there?" "Nina went," answered Potter, throwing himself down in his favorite chair. "You don't catch me at a tea." "You were there, Mrs. Potter?" Rodgers spoke in surprise. "I searched for you--" "It was a frightful jam." Nina picked up her workbag which she had left on the lounge earlier in the afternoon and unfolded its contents. "I did not stay long." "But you heard the news?" "News?" Potter glanced up, expectantly. The tone in which the question was put arrested his attention which had strayed to his wife. "Was there any special news? Nina, you didn't tell me."