"Why, I don't hate anybody, do you?" Mrs. Temple exclaimed, looking up from the novel she had found on the book shelves. Mrs. Wellington dropped into the next chair:
"On a long railroad journey I hate everybody. Don't you hate long journeys?"
"It's the first I ever took," Mrs. Temple apologized, radiantly, "And I'm having the—what my oldest boy would call the time of my life. And dear Walter—such goings on for him! A few minutes ago I strolled by the door and I saw him playing cards with a stranger, and smoking and drinking, too, all at once."
"Boys will be boys," said Mrs. Wellington.
"But for Dr. Temple of all people——"
"Why shouldn't a doctor? It's a shame the way men have everything. Think of it, a special smoking room. And women have no place to take a puff except on the sly."
Mrs. Temple stared at her in awe: "The woman in this book smokes!—perfumed things!"
"All women smoke nowadays," said Mrs. Wellington, carelessly. "Don't you?"
The politest thing Mrs. Temple could think of in answer was: "Not yet."