"For pity's sake, don't let's talk politics," wailed Martha. "I know nothing about politics. I haven't any brains for that sort of thing."
"Is that politics?" inquired Jane. "I thought politics meant whether the Democrats or the Republicans or the reformers were to get the offices and the chance to steal."
"Everything's politics, nowadays," said Martha, comparing the color of the material of her dress with the color of her fat white arm. "As Hugo says, that Victor Dorn is dragging everything into politics—even our private business of how we make and spend our own money."
Jane sat down abruptly. "Victor Dorn," she said in a strange voice. "WHO is Victor Dorn? WHAT is Victor Dorn? It seems that I can hear of nothing but Victor Dorn to-day."
"He's too low to talk about," said Martha, amiable and absent.
"Why?"
"Politics," replied Martha. "Really, he is horrid, Jane."
"To look at?"
"No—not to look at. He's handsome in a way. Not at all common looking. You might take him for a gentleman, if you didn't know. Still—he always dresses peculiarly—always wears soft hats. I think soft hats are SO vulgar—don't you?"
"How hopelessly middle-class you are, Martha," mocked Jane.