The Politician

on veranda railings, hanging on the backs of chairs, in quiet corners in the club sitting-rooms, the young married women prevailed, flirting indefatigably with each other's husbands or with the coterie of young bachelors without which no married set considers itself complete. And every one, maids and matrons, with the auxiliary force of men in attendance, was sipping something. Harriet and Benton having had their tea, iced and served in a remote corner of the piazza, and with an unfinished argument on their hands which had been raging intermittently from the moment they had started on their ride until the moment when the groom at the club had taken their horses, were walking over the lawn talking earnestly, in the direction of the tennis courts, where a fast set of men's singles was being played. Not that they had any special interest in either of the champions of the racquet whom they could see beyond the wire backstop rushing frantically about the grass court in their white clothes, like fish in a tank, shouting " deuce " and " love-forty " at each other. The fact was they were so interested in what they had to say, that they did n't care at all where they went. Harriet was trying her best to explain to George Benton once for all, so that the matter should be settled beyond the shadow of a doubt, how utterly impossible it was for her to consider marrying him. Riding costume is usually becoming both to man and to woman, and it was especially so to Harriet. The s...