Davidson twisted his mustache point. "It isn't noticeable yet—O, there's a little band of fellows starving here like rats in a garret—but what general recognition of art have you?"
"What could you expect?"
"Well, you might buy pictures."
"We do—old masters and salon pictures," said Mills, with a relenting acknowledgment of the city's weakness.
"That's it exactly!" said Davidson. "You've no judgment here. You are obliged to take your judgment from somebody else."
So the talk proceeded. To Rose it was illuminating and epoch-making. She read in it the city's developing thought. Paris and the Rocky Mountains met here with Chicago and the most modern types of men and women.
Meanwhile Mason found opportunity to say to Thatcher, who seemed a little ill at ease:
"These little informal Sunday suppers and free-for-alls are increasing in number, and they are signs of civilization. Of course a few of the women still go to church in the morning, but that will wear off, except at new-bonnet time."
Thatcher did not reply; he thought Mason a little flippant.
Rose sought opportunity to talk about Mrs. Thatcher and Josephine.