"Are you a member?" one of the ladies said to the other. "I didn't know
you had joined."
"Oh, I haven't; nothing would induce me."
"That's not fair; you have all the fun and none of the responsibility."
"Oh, the--the fun!" exclaimed the second lady.
"You needn't abuse us, or I will never invite you," said the first.
"Well, I thought it was meant to be improving; that's all I mean; very
good for the mind. Now, this woman to-night; isn't she from Boston?"
"Yes, I believe they have brought her on, just for this."
"Well, you must be pretty desperate when you have got to go to Boston
for your entertainment."
"Well, there's a similar society there, and I never heard of their
sending to New York."
"Of course not, they think they have got everything. But doesn't it make
your life a burden thinking what you can possibly have?"
"Oh dear, no. I am going to have Professor Gougenheim--all about the
Talmud. You must come."
"Well, I'll come," said the second lady; "but nothing would induce me to
be a regular member."
Whatever the mystic circle might be, Ransom agreed with the second lady
that regular membership must have terrors, and he admired her
independence in such an artificial world. A considerable part of the
company had now directed itself to the further apartment--people had
begun to occupy the chairs, to confront the empty platform. He reached
the wide doors, and saw that the place was a spacious music-room,
decorated in white and gold, with a polished floor and marble busts of
composers, on brackets attached to the delicate panels.
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