"That sounds like murder," she said.
"Oh no; it's only politics—politics and business. But let's not talk of that—let us absorb the beauty of the night. Did you enjoy the dance?"
"Very much. I am hopeless of ever painting it though—it is so full of big, significant shadows. I wish I knew more about it."
"You are less confident than you were last year." He looked at her slyly.
"I see more."
"And feel more?" he asked.
"Yes—I'm afraid I'm getting Captain Curtis's point of view. These people aren't the mendicants they once seemed. The expression of some of those faces to-night was wonderful. They are something more than tramps when they discard their rags."
"I wish you'd come to my point of view," he said, a little irrelevantly.
"About what?"
"About our momentous day. Suppose we say Wednesday of Thanksgiving week?"