Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool smiled faintly.
‚ÄúReally, Mr. ¬ÝEasterly, I know little about such matters and care less. I have food and clothes. Why worry with more?‚Äù
Mr. ¬ÝEasterly half expected this and he determined to deliver his last shot on the run. He arose with a disappointed air.
‚ÄúOf course, Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, I see how it is: you have plenty and one can‚Äôt expect your services or influence for nothing. It had occurred to me that your husband might like something political; but I presume not.‚Äù
“Something political?”
‚ÄúYes. You see, it‚Äôs barely possible, for instance, that there will be a change in the French ambassadorship. The present ambassador is old and‚ÅÝ‚Äîwell, I don‚Äôt know, but as I say, it‚Äôs possible. Of course though, that may not appeal to you, and I can only beg your good offices in charity if‚ÅÝ‚Äîif you see your way to help us. Well, I must be going.‚Äù
‚ÄúWhat is‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI thought the President appointed ambassadors.‚Äù
‚ÄúTo be sure, but we appoint Presidents,‚Äù laughed Mr. ¬ÝEasterly. ‚ÄúGood day. I shall hope to see you in Washington.‚Äù
‚ÄúGood day,‚Äù Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool returned absently.
After he had gone she walked slowly to Zora‚Äôs room and opened the door. For a long time she stood quietly looking in. Zora was curled in a chair with a book. She was in dreamland; in a world of books builded thoughtfully for her by Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool, and before that by Miss Smith.