They were to go back to New York on the midnight train so that the governor might be in time for his morning's work in the investigation, but before going he was having a small dinner party. An extra man for Benny, a distinguished member of the House, and the senator from his own state--an old political ally--and his wife. His wife had been a Washington woman of an old family, and now with her husband's money and position her house was a place of some political importance.
From the moment the Framinghams arrived a cloud began to descend on Lydia. She liked them both--the fresh-faced, white-haired, clever, wise senator and his pretty, elegant wife--elegant, but a little more elaborate than the same type in New York. Mrs. Framingham's hair was more carefully curled, her dress a trifle richer and tighter, her jewels more numerous than Lydia's or Miss Bennett's; but still Lydia recognized her at once as an equal--a woman who had her own way socially in her own setting.
She liked the Framinghams--it was Albee she liked less well. He was different from the instant of their entrance. To use the language of the nursery, he began to show off, not in connection with his success of the morning--Lydia could have forgiven some vanity about that performance--but about social matters, the opera, Miss Thorne's box, and then--Lydia knew it was coming--the Pulsifers. He wanted Mrs. Framingham to know that he had been asked to the Pulsifers'. He did it this way:
"You may imagine, Mrs. Framingham, how much flattered I feel that Miss Thorne should have come on to the hearing, missing one of the most brilliant parties of the season--yes, the Pulsifers'. Of course, as far as I am concerned, it is a great relief to side-step that sort of thing. Oh, I don't wish to appear ungracious. It was very kind of Mrs. Pulsifer to invite me, but I was glad of an excuse to avoid it. Only for Miss Thorne----"
Even his voice sounded different--specious, servile--"servile" was the word in Lydia's mind. Mrs. Framingham, if she were impressed by the news that the governor could have gone if he had wanted, betrayed not the least interest. Lydia pieced out the story of her attitude to the governor. Evidently when she had been last in the capital of her husband's state Albee had been only a powerful member of the legislature--useful to her husband, but not invited to her house. All very well, thought Lydia--a criticism of Mrs. Framingham's lack of vision--if only Albee would stand by it, resent it, and not be so eager to please.