"He's been attentive to all these," Miss Hitchcock explained to Sommers. "The Polot money is very bad, isn't it?" Miss Hitchcock shrugged her shoulders. "It is current coin." "The system is worse than the _dot_ and _mariage de convenance_. There is no pretension of sentiment in that, at least. See him hanging over the girl--faugh!" "You _are_ crude," Miss Hitchcock admitted, candidly. "Let us move out of this crowd. Some one will overhear you." They sauntered into the dimly lighted hall, where there were fewer people, and he continued truculently: "I remember that side by side with the report of Miss Polot's engagement was a short account of the starvation at Pullman, and another column was headed, 'Nothing to arbitrate: Pullman says he has nothing to arbitrate.' Did you see that the reporters carefully estimated just how much Miss Polot's share of the plunder would be?" "What you need is golf. I have been teaching papa at the Springs. It is a great resource, and it increases your sense of humor." "It doesn't seem to have rested you," Sommers answered. "You are tired or worried." "Worse yet!" she laughed nervously. "Clearly, you won't do. You must go back to Marion." She looked up at him from her low seat with brilliant, mocking eyes. "I have thought of that. It would not be the worst thing that could happen. Would _you_ think it possible--Marion?" he asked clumsily. Her eyes did not fall, but rested steadily on his face. Under this clear gaze his remark appeared to him preposterous. She seemed to show him how precipitate, unformed,--crude, as she said,--all his acts were. Instead of answering his question, she said gently: "Yes, you are right. I _am_ worried, and I came here tonight to escape it. But one doesn't escape worries with you. One increases them. You make me feel guilty, uncomfortable. Now get me something thoroughly cold, and perhaps we can have that long-promised talk." When Sommers returned with a glass of champagne, a number of men had gathered about Miss Hitchcock, and she left him on the outside, intentionally it seemed, while she chatted with them, bandying allusions that meant nothing to him. Sommers saw that he had been a bore. He slipped out of the group and wandered into the large library, where the guests were eating and drinking. A heavy, serious man, whom he had seen at various places, spoke to him. He said something about the lecture, then something about Miss Polot's engagement. "They'll go to New York," he ventured. "Stewart has some position there, some family." He talked about the Stewarts and the Polots, and finally he went to the dressing room to smoke. Sommers had made up his mind to leave, and was looking for Mrs. Carson, when he came across Miss Hitchcock again.