She was unaware of her own powers, and really supposed that her sudden and usually ephemeral friendships were based on mutual attraction. The fact that for years her friends had been the small group of the momentarily fashionable required, in her eyes, no explanation. So simple was her creed that she believed people were fashionable for the same reason that they were her friends, because “they were so nice.” During the short period of their existence, Mrs. Ussher gave to these friendships the utmost loyalty and devotion. She agonized over the financial, domestic and romantic troubles of her friends; she sat up till the small hours, talking to them like a schoolgirl; during the height of their careers she organized plots for their assistance; and even when their stars were plainly on the decline, she would often ask them to lunch, if she happened to be alone. Many people, we know, are prone to make friends with the rich and great. Mrs. Ussher’s genius consisted in having made friends with them before they were either. When you hurried to her with some account of a newly discovered treasure--a beauty or a conversable young man--she would always say: “Oh, yes, I crossed with her two years ago,” or “Isn’t he a dear?--he was once in Jack’s office.” The strange thing was these statements were always true; the subjects of them confessed with tears that “dear Mrs. Ussher” or “darling Laura” was the kindest friend they had ever had. Her house party was therefore likely to be notable. First, there was of course Mrs. Almar--of course without her husband. There is only one thing, or perhaps two, to be said for Nancy Almar--that she was very handsome and that she was not a hypocrite, no more than a pirate is a hypocrite who comes aboard with his cutlass in his teeth. Mrs. Almar’s cutlass was always in her teeth, when it was not in somebody’s vitals. She had smooth, jet-black hair, done close to her pretty head, a clear white-and-vermilion complexion, and a good figure, not too tall. She said little, but everything she did say, she most poignantly meant. If, while you were talking to her, she suddenly cried out: “Ah, that’s really good!” there was no doubt you had had the good fortune to amuse her; while if she yawned and left you in the midst of a sentence there was no question that she was bored. She hated her husband--not for the conventional reason that she had married him. She hated him because he was a hypocrite, because he was always placating and temporizing. For instance, he had said to her as she was about to start for the Usshers’: “I hope you’ll explain to them why I could not come.” There had never been the least question of Mr. Almar’s coming, and she turned slowly and looked at him as she asked: “You mean that I would not have gone if you had?” He did not seem annoyed. “No,” he said, “that I’m called South on business.”