Oh! I dare say _you_ don't mind, Mr.Wharton, because you are a Socialist.

But, I assure you, those of us who still believe in the influence of the best people don't like it." A point whence Wharton easily led her through a series of spiteful anecdotes bearing on her own social mishaps and rebuffs, which were none the less illuminating because of the teller's anxious effort to give them a dignified and disinterested air.

Then, when neither she nor her plight were any longer amusing, he took his leave, exchanging another skirmishing word or two on the staircase with Lady Selina, who it appeared was "going on" as he was, and to the same house.
In a few minutes his hansom landed him at the door of a great mansion in Berkeley Square, where a huge evening party was proceeding, given by one of those Liberal ladies whom his late hostess had been so freely denouncing.

The lady and the house belonged to a man who had held high office in the late Administration.
As he made his way slowly to the top of the crowded stairs, the stately woman in white satin and diamonds who was "receiving" on the landing marked him, and when his name was announced she came forward a step or two.

Nothing could have been more flattering than the smile with which she gave him her gloved hand to touch.
"Have you been out of town all these Sundays ?" she said to him, with the slightest air of soft reproach.