Instead of making his way home at once Arbuthnot turned up the side of the street on which the Amorys' house stood. As he reached the house the door was opened, and a man came out and walked down the steps. He was a man with a large frame, a darkly florid complexion, and heavily handsome features. As he passed Arbuthnot he gave him a glance and a rather grudging bow, which expressed candidly exactly the amount of pleasure he derived from encountering him. Bertha was in the parlor alone. When Arbuthnot entered he found her standing in the middle of the room, looking down at the roses on her gayly painted fan, and evidently not seeing them. "Well," he began, by way of greeting, "I hope you have been enjoying yourself--with your senators." She looked up, and made a quick, eager little movement toward him, as if she was more glad to see him than usual. "Ah!" she exclaimed. "I believe I was wishing you would come." "Thank you," he said; "but the compliment would be greater if you were sure of it." "I think I am sure of it, now you are here," she answered, "though I don't know at all why I wanted you--unless it was to tell you that I have not been enjoying myself in the least--with my senators." "I am delighted to hear it," he replied. "Nothing could please me better. They are always too numerous, and lately one is continually meeting them on the steps and being scowled at." She shut her fan quickly, with a slight frown. "Why scowled at?" she said. "That would be absurd enough." "Absurd or not," he laughed, "it is true." But, notwithstanding his laugh, there was no change in her face he did not see. They had seated themselves by this time, and Bertha was looking at her fan again, and opening and shutting it slowly. "They are not my senators," she said. "They are Richard's, and--I am getting a little tired of them, though I should not like to tell him so. When it is warm, as it is to-day, I am very tired of them." "I should not think it at all improbable," remarked Arbuthnot, dryly. "It has struck me that it would be necessary for the mercury to be several degrees below zero before you would find the one who went out just now, for instance, especially exhilarating." "He is not exhilarating at all," she said. "Richard likes him," she added, a moment afterward. "I don't know exactly why, but he really seems to admire him. They are quite intimate. I think the acquaintance began through some law business he gave him in connection with the Westoria lands. I have tried to like him on Richard's account. You must remember," she said, with a smile, "I first tried to like you on Richard's account." "I hope you succeeded better than you will with Planefield," he said. "I might succeed with him if I persevered long enough," she answered. "The difficulty lies in the perseverance. Richard says I would make a good lobbyist, but I am sure I should not. I could not be persistently amiable and entertaining to people who tired me."