intensely Union and Northern?"
"Put on!" said Hooker, in his natural voice.
"But you remember the incident of the flag?" persisted Brant.
"Mrs. Hooker was always an actress," said Hooker significantly.
"But," he added cheerfully, "Mrs. Hooker is now the wife of Senator
Boompointer, one of the wealthiest and most powerful Republicans in
Washington--carries the patronage of the whole West in his vest pocket."
"Yet, if she is not a Republican, why did she"--began Brant.
"For a purpose," replied Hooker darkly. "But," he added again, with
greater cheerfulness, "she belongs to the very elite of Washington
society. Goes to all the foreign ambassadors' balls, and is a power
at the White House. Her picture is in all the first-class illustrated
papers."
The singular but unmistakable pride of the man in the importance of the
wife from whom he was divorced, and for whom he did not care, would have
offended Brant's delicacy, or at least have excited his ridicule, but
for the reason that he was more deeply stung by Hooker's allusion to his
own wife and his degrading similitude of their two conditions. But he
dismissed the former as part of Hooker's invincible and still boyish
extravagance, and the latter as part of his equally characteristic
assumption. Perhaps he was conscious, too, notwithstanding the lapse
of years and the condonation of separation and forgetfulness, that he
deserved little delicacy from the hands of Susy's husband. Nevertheless,
he dreaded to hear him speak again of her; and the fear was realized in
a question.
"Does she know you are here?"
"Who?" said Brant curtly.
"Your wife. That is--I reckon she's your wife still, eh?"
"Yes; but I do not know what she knows," returned Brant quietly. He had
regained his self-composure.
"Susy,--Mrs. Senator Boompointer, that is,"--said Hooker, with an
apparent dignity in his late wife's new title, "allowed that she'd gone
abroad on a secret mission from the Southern Confederacy to them crowned
heads over there. She was good at ropin' men in, you know. Anyhow, Susy,
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