She observed
with satisfaction the passage of a number of private carriages, and that
their occupants were stylishly clad. She reflected that, as, the wife of
a Congressman, her place was among them, and she was glad that they
recognized the claims of social development so far as to dress well and
live in comfort. Before starting she had herself fastened a bunch of red
roses at her waist as a contribution to her picturesqueness as a public
woman.
While she was thus absorbed in speculation, not altogether free from
worrying suspicions, in spite of her mental vision as to the occupants
of these private residences, she uttered an ejaculation of surprise as a
jaunty victoria passed by them, and she turned her head in an eager
attempt to ascertain if her surprise and annoyance were well-founded.
The other vehicle was moving rapidly, but a similar curiosity impelled
one of its occupants to look hack also, and the eyes of the two women
met.
"It's she; I thought it was."
"Who, my dear?" said Lyons.
"Flossy Williams--Mrs. Gregory Williams. I wonder," she added, in a
severe tone, "what she is doing here, and how she happens to be
associating with these people. That was a private carriage."
"Williams has a number of friends in Washington, I imagine.
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