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Wrenn, much pleased with himself, smiled au prince upon his new friends. Mrs. Stettinius was getting into her stride for a few remarks upon the poetry of industrialism when Mr. Gutch, who had been "Uh "ing for some moments, trying to get in his remark, winked with sly rudeness at Miss Saxonby and observed: "I fancy romance isn't quite dead yet, y' know.
Wrenn had stood, frightened and unprotected and rain-wrinkled, before the gathering by the fireless fireplace, wondering how Mrs. Stettinius could get her nose so blue and yet so powdery. Despite her encouragement he gave no fuller account of the "gipsying" than, "Why uh we just tramped down," till Russian-Jewish Yilyena rolled her ebony eyes at him and insisted, "Yez, you mus' tale us about it."
E. R. Stettinius of the J. P. Morgan firm and a Republican was made special assistant to the Secretary of War and placed in charge of supplies, a duty that he had been discharging for the Allies. Maj. Gen. George W. Goethals, after his unfortunate experience in shipbuilding, was given a second chance and put in the War Department as an assistant Chief of staff. The Chief of Staff himself, Gen.
He was tottering through the common room, wondering whether he could find a clothing-shop in Aengusmere, when a shrill gurgle from a wing-chair by the rough-brick fireplace halted him. "Oh-h-h-h, Mister Wrenn; Mr. Wrenn!" There sat Mrs. Stettinius, the poet-lady of Olympia's rooms on Great James Street. "Oh-h-h-h, Mr.
Wrenn was, and wanted to be away from there. He darted as from a spring when he heard Istra's voice, from the edge of the group, calling, "Come here a sec', Billy." She was standing with a chair-back for support, tired but smiling. "I can't get to sleep yet. Don't you want me to show you some of the buildings here?" "Oh yes!" "If Mrs. Stettinius can spare you!"
"Why, I don't think you ought to talk about them so severe," he implored, as they started down-stairs. "I don't mean they're like you. They don't savvy like you do. I mean it! But I was awful int'rested in what that Miss Johns said about kids in school getting crushed into a mold. Gee! that's so; ain't it? Never thought of it before. And that Mrs. Stettinius talked about Yeats so beautiful."
Stettinius she a poet; he a bleached man, with goatish whiskers and a sanctimonious white neck-cloth, who was Puritanically, ethically, gloomily, religiously atheistic. Items in the room were a young man who taught in Mr. Jeney's Select School and an Established Church mission worker from Whitechapel, who loved to be shocked. It was Mr.
Mouse, maybe I can make a filibuster of you. I've got to create something. Oh, those people! If you just knew them! That fool Mary Stettinius is mad about that Tchatzsky person, and her husband invites him to teas. Stettinius is mad about Olympia, who'll probably take Carson out and marry him, and he'll keep on hanging about the Greek girl. Ungh!" "I don't know I don't know "
He apparently had something to say. But the chorus went on: "And just as swelteringly monogamic in Port Said as in Brum." "Yes, that's so." "Mr. Wr-r-renn," thrilled Mrs. Stettinius, the lady poet, "didn't you notice that they were perfectly oblivious of all economic movements; that their observations never post-dated ruins?"
This by way of remarking on the fact that the female poet was staring volubly. "G-g-g-g-g-g " said Mrs. Stettinius, which seemed to imply perfect consent. Istra took him to the belvedere on a little slope overlooking the lawns of Aengusmere, scattered with low bungalows and rose-gardens. "It is beautiful, isn't it?
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