He looked at his watch; it was half-past nine; the Senate would convene at ten; the resolution would not be reached before half-past ten at any rate; and so he determined to brave Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop again. He turned back into the lobby; there she was, hobnobbing with men; she did not pass from group to group, after the manner of any other lobbyist, but by some coercion he wished he might be master of, she drew them unerringly to her side. Now she had Braidwood, the leader of the House, and chairman of the steering committee, and Porter, the leader of the Senate. She appeared to be giving them instructions.
She had set her committee on less important game; the ladies were scattered over the rotunda, each talking to a little set of men. When Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop saw Vernon coming, she turned from Braidwood and Porter and stood awaiting him. Strangely enough Braidwood and Porter stayed where they were, as if she had put them there. And Vernon reflected that he had never known them, as doubtless no one else had ever known them, to do such a thing as that before.
“Where’s Amelia?” he asked before she could speak.
“I have sent her upstairs,” said Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, “poor child!”
Vernon wondered why “poor child.”
“It’s really too bad,” Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop continued.
“What is too bad?” demanded Vernon. He had grown sulky.
Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop looked at him pityingly.
“Morley,” she said in a vast solemn tone that came slowly up from her great stays, “I can make allowances, of course. I know something of the nature of man; I will admit that that Greene woman is remarkably handsome, and of her cleverness there can be no doubt. I don’t altogether blame you.”
She paused that Vernon might comprehend to the fullest her marvelous magnanimity.