She broke off in her odd way, her gaze wandering. Her indifference was an achievement in itself, a masterly thing. She wore a blue house gown of an exquisite simplicity. A string of crystal beads hung about her neck and she put her hand to them frequently as though to make sure they were there. As she sank into a chair her long figure relaxed into graceful lines. She was much more composed than at the dinner, with a languorous composure that might have been donned for the occasion like a garment. She reminded Grace of those portraits of women done by fashionable painters which satisfy the artistic sense without conveying a sense of reality.
“You forget, May, that I haven’t met Miss Reynolds,” Trenton remarked to her; but she ignored him.
“You are—what do you say—a Hoosier, Miss Durland?” she asked, her gaze falling as if by chance upon Grace.
“Oh, yes, I’m a native.” Grace answered with a faint smile; but her courage was ebbing. She hated Mrs. Trenton. She tried to think of something amusing to add to her confession that she was a native Indianian but the atmosphere of the room was not conducive to brilliancy. To make conversation Trenton reminded his wife that they had once met a certain senator from Indiana at White Sulphur Springs.
A “yes” charged with all the apathy that can be conveyed by the rising inflexion, was the only reply that was evoked by this attempt to link Indiana to large affairs of state. Trenton asked Grace whether Indiana had ever produced more than one president, and she tried to ease her discomfiture by replying that the state had rather specialized in vice-presidents.
“Oh, that!” remarked Mrs. Trenton. “How very droll! I suppose the Indiana school teacher has a frightful time instilling in the young Hoosier mind the names of all your vice-presidents. Do they pay teachers well in Indiana?”
“Not so well as farther West, I believe,” Grace answered; “but I know little about it.”
“That’s the next thing I’m going to take up. I’m having data collected now,” Mrs. Trenton said with more spirit than she had before manifested.
“That’s fine, May,” said Trenton cordially. “That’s a work worth doing.”
“You’d really approve of that, Ward?” she asked. “You haven’t always been so indulgent of my whims.”