“That’s all right,” put in the Senator, gloomily, “but I’ve noticed lately that the women don’t seem to be willing to do that. They want to take a hand in such matters themselves.” He leaned back in his chair sadly. “It certainly makes it hard for us politicians.”
A woman of ample girth and a handmade complexion pushed her coffee cup away and lighted a fresh cigarette. She had just finished reading Mary Randall’s manifesto. Nature had made her beautiful, but advancing years and too much art had all but destroyed Nature’s handicraft. She inhaled the acrid smoke deeply and then raising her voice, called:
“Celeste! You, Celeste!”
A mulatto girl threw open the door, crying:
“Yes, madame?”
“What you doing?”
“Cleaning up.”
“Get a bottle of wine. Or did those high rollers guzzle it all last night, the drunken beasts?”
“No, madame. I’ve saved one for you.” She opened the bottle and placed the effervescent liquid before her mistress.