“Precedence again?” said Frothingham.
“Precedence. It’s outrageous that those two girls should show so little consideration.”
“I’ve known the same sort of thing to happen at home,” Frothingham assured her. “Once when I’d gone to a house only for dinner I had to stay until half-past four in the morning. The Prince of Wales was there, and he was just then mad about ‘bridge.’ He insisted on playing and playing. Several of us were asleep in the next room—the hostess was nodding over her cards.”
“But he must have seen,” said Elsie. “Why didn’t he take the hint?”
“Well, you see, the poor chap led such a deadly dull life in those days. When he found himself having a bit of fun he didn’t care a rap what it cost anyone else. It’s a mistake to bother with other people’s feelings, don’t you think?”
“It only makes them supersensitive and hard to get on with,” replied Elsie. “I used to be considerate. Now I’m considerate only when it’s positively rude not to be. Besides, I must expect to buy my way through the world. I never had any friends—though I used to think I had, when I was a fool and didn’t know that just the sight of wealth makes human beings tie up their good instincts and turn loose the worst there is in them. Even when rich people are friendly with each other it’s usually in the hope of getting some sordid advantage.”
“Do you apply that to yourself or only to others?”
“It applies to me—it has applied to me ever since I found what sort of a world I was living in.”
“I don’t believe it, my dear girl,” drawled Frothingham, the more convincingly for the lack of energy in his tone. And he gave her a quick, queer look through his eyeglass and was stolid again.
She coloured just a little. “Oh, I suppose I’d be as big a goose as ever if I should fall in love again.”