Frostwinch's, Arthur broke into a pleasant little laugh, as if
a sudden thought had amused him.
"Why in the world, Edith," he asked, "couldn't you let that moon-calf
Candish fight his own battle to-night? He would have tied himself all
up in two moments, with a little judicious help I should have been glad
to give him."
"I knew it," was her answer, "and that is precisely why I wanted to
stop things. What possible amusement it can be to you to get the better
of a man who is so little a match for you in argument, I don't
understand."
"I never begin," Fenton responded. "Of course if he starts it I have to
defend myself."
The stopping of the carriage prevented further discussion, and the pair
were soon involved in the crowd of people struggling toward the hostess
across Mrs. Denton Frostwinch's handsome drawing-room. Mrs. Frostwinch
belonged, beyond the possibility of any cavilling doubt, to the most
exclusive circle of fashionable Boston society. Boston society is a
complex and enigmatical thing, full of anomalies, bounded by wavering
and uncertain lines, governed by no fixed standards, whether of wealth,
birth, or culture, but at times apparently leaning a little toward each
of these three great factors of American social standing.
It is seldom wise to be sure that at any given Boston house whatever,
one will not find a more or less strong dash of democratic flavor in
general company, and there are those who discover in this fact
evidences of an agreeable and lofty republicanism.
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