“What, in this weather, Kate?” exclaimed the astonished Colonel. “Do you wish to kill off the Corps bodily? They wear their Court dress only at the state receptions and the diplomatic dinners held at the White House every winter, or when Royalty is present.”
“I know that,” pettishly. “But it would improve the brilliancy of this affair.”
“Even with the objectionable frock coat,” laughed the Colonel, “this is a scene characteristic of the national capital alone. Nowhere else in this country can such a gathering of distinguished men and women be brought together.”
“You are quite right in that,” acknowledged Mrs. Truxton. “I’ve seen ten presidents come and go, and I have lived to see Washington develop in a way which would have surprised the founders. Mercy on us, look at ‘Fuss and Feathers.’” She nodded toward an overdressed, pretty little woman who was advancing in their direction.
“Mrs. Blake has certainly outdone herself,” agreed Colonel Thornton, as he and Douglas raised their hats in greeting to the pretty woman who strolled past them. “I wonder she doesn’t make you wish to break the eighth commandment, Eleanor.”
“Why?” exclaimed his niece.
“On account of her collection of magnificent rubies”—Eleanor changed color—“I thought that stone was one of your ‘fads.’”
“I like all jewelry.” The slight emphasis was lost on her companions. Eleanor fingered her parasol nervously and glanced uneasily over her shoulder to where Douglas stood beyond earshot, talking to an old friend. “But I shall spend my time in wishing—I can never hope to rival Mrs. Blake’s collection.”
“Marry a rich man and persuade him to give you rings and necklaces,” advised Thornton. Eleanor moved restlessly.