"No. You need not," rejoined Cora, stiffening. "I'm not interested in scandal."
Mrs. Teunis Van Dam straightened rigidly in her chair.
"I fear that, after all, I must particularize," she replied.
"Obviously you can't know the truth of things."
"I know that his wife divorced him, and I have heard a dozen or more malicious tales about his present life. I doubt if you can add to the collection."
"You put me in a false position."
"And you reflect on mine in assuming to dictate whom I shall receive.
This house belongs to the state. Every citizen is welcome."
Mrs. Van Dam had gathered her furs and risen, but at this she paused.
"There," she exclaimed, with a little laugh, "what women we are! I've been talking of one thing, you of another. You have the right view of your official obligations precisely. Of course the man is free to come to your public receptions. The state can't establish a moral quarantine, more's the pity."
"Ex-Senator Ludlow is free to come to my house at all times," cut in Cora, with a brilliant crimson dot in either cheek. "I do not sit in pharisaical judgment on the unfortunate. I've had his story as well as that of you who are against him. I believe him a misjudged man who deserves a courageous friend."
"Oh, if it is a question of friendship—" and Mrs. Van Dam terminated sentence and interview with a shrug.