``For pity's sake, don't let's talk politics,'' wailed Martha.
``I know nothing about politics. I haven't any brains for that
sort of thing.''
``Is that politics?'' inquired Jane. ``I thought politics meant
whether the Democrats or the Republicans or the reformers were to
get the offices and the chance to steal.''
``Everything's politics, nowadays,'' said Martha, comparing the
color of the material of her dress with the color of her fat
white arm. ``As Hugo says, that Victor Dorn is dragging
everything into politics--even our private business of how we
make and spend our own money.''
Jane sat down abruptly. ``Victor Dorn,'' she said in a strange
voice. ``WHO is Victor Dorn? WHAT is Victor Dorn? It seems
that I can hear of nothing but Victor Dorn to-day.''
``He's too low to talk about,'' said Martha, amiable and absent.
``Why?''
``Politics,'' replied Martha. ``Really, he is horrid, Jane.''
``To look at?''
``No--not to look at. He's handsome in a way. Not at all common
looking. You might take him for a gentleman, if you didn't know.
Still--he always dresses peculiarly--always wears soft hats. I
think soft hats are SO vulgar--don't you?''
``How hopelessly middle-class you are, Martha,'' mocked Jane.
``Hugo would as soon think of going in the street in a--in a--I
don't know what.''
``Hugo is the finest flower of American gentleman. That is, he's
the quintessence of everything that's nice --and `nasty.
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