A reply by Flossy to this speech was prevented by the interruption of Lyons, who brought up Mr. Horace Elton for introduction to his wife.  Selma knew him at once from his likeness to the description which her husband had given.  He was portly and thick-set, with a large neck, a strong, unemotional, high-colored face, and closely-shaven, small side whiskers.  He made her a low bow and, after a few moments of conversation, in the course of which he let fall a complimentary allusion to her husband’s oratorical abilities and gave her to understand that he considered Lyons’s marriage as a wise and enviable proceeding, he invited her to promenade the room on his arm.  Mr. Elton had a low but clear and dispassionate voice, and a concise utterance.  His remarks gave the impression that he could impart more on any subject if he chose, and that what he said proceeded from a reserve fund of special, secret knowledge, a little of which he was willing to confide to his listener.  He enlightened Selma in a few words as to a variety of the people present, accompanying his identification with a phrase or two of comprehensive personal detail, which had the savor of being unknown to the world at large.

“The lady we just passed, Mrs. Lyons, is the wife of the junior Senator from Nevada.  Her husband fell in love with her on the stage of a mining town theatrical troupe.  That tall man, with the profuse wavy hair and prominent nose, is Congressman Ross of Colorado, the owner of one of the largest cattle ranches in the Far West.  It is said that he has never smoked, never tasted a glass of liquor, and never gambled in his life.”

In the course of these remarks Mr. Elton simply stated his interesting facts without comment.  He avoided censorious or satirical allusions to the people to whom he called Selma’s attention.  On the contrary, his observations suggested sympathetically that he desired to point out to her the interesting personalities of the capital, and that he regarded the entertainment as an occasion to behold the strong men and women of the country in their lustre and dignity.  As they passed the lady in pomegranate velvet, Selma said, in her turn, “That is Mrs. Colman, I believe.  Senator Colman’s child wife.”  She added what was in her thoughts, “I understand that the society people here have taken her up.”

“Yes.  She has become a conspicuous figure in Washington.  I remember her, Mrs. Lyons, when she was Addie Farr—­before she married Congressman Polsen of Kentucky.  She was a dashing looking girl in those days, with her black eyes and black ringlets.  I remember she had a coltish way of tossing her head.  The story is that when she accepted Polsen another Kentuckian—­a young planter—­who was in love with her, drank laudanum.  Now, as you say, she is being taken up socially, and her husband, the Senator, is very proud of her success.  After all, if a woman is ambitious and has tact, what can she ask better than to be the wife of a United States Senator?” He paused a moment, then, with a gallant sidelong glance at his companion, resumed in a concise whisper, which had the effect of a disclosure, “Prophecies, especially political prophecies, are dangerous affairs, but it seems to me not improbable that before many years have passed the wife of Senator Lyons will be equally prominent—­be as conspicuous socially as the wife of Senator Colman.”