d'ye do, Mrs. Sunderland," as an elaborately gowned woman swept by their
table, barely returning their greeting.

"It is the regret of my life," announced Miss Kiametia, her eyes
twinkling, "that I never kept a photograph of Mrs. Sunderland taken when
she first came to Washington ten years ago. It would provide a study in
expression and expansion in social snobbery."

Mrs. Whitney, conscious that she was perhaps rude by her silence, turned
to Captain Miller who had taken no part in the conversation.

"Is this your first visit to Washington, Captain?" she inquired.

"Yes, and I find its residents so delightful that I hope to
prolong my stay."

"What did you think of the speech today?" broke in Foster.

"Capital! The Senator is right; if this government ship purchase bill
goes through, the country will indeed be buying a quarrel."

"Quite right," agreed Whitney, laying down his fork. "The only people
who fail to see it in that light are those advocating the bill's passage.
Every nation thinks the same."

"Except possibly Germany," argued Foster. "She would probably try and
sell us the hundreds of interned ships in our seaports."

"Well, why shouldn't she?" Miss Kiametia, with recollections of her
misgivings the night before, declined the lobster croquettes. "With the