Sara looked across that dining-room and was content. The lace over-cover was very beautiful. The new china had really an exquisite design, and her taste in cut glass was quite vindicated. The flowers were gorgeous. She would have preferred Toles, the expensive white caterer, but, of course, political considerations put that beyond thought. The colored man, Jones, was, after all, not bad and had quite a select white clientele in Chicago. It was a rainy night, but so far not one person invited had declined, and she viewed the scene complacently. She doubted very much if there was another dining-room in Chicago that looked as expensive. Bigger, yes, but not more expensive, in looks at least. + 

Sara was in no sense evil. Her character had been hardened and sharpened by all that she had met and fought. She craved wealth and position. She got pleasure in having people look with envious eyes upon what she had and did. It was her answer to the world’s taunts, jibes, and discriminations. She was always unconsciously showing off, and her nerves quivered if what she did was not noticed. Really, down in her heart, she was sorry for Matthew. He seemed curiously weak and sensitive in the places where he should not have been; she herself was furious if sympathy or sorrow seeped through her armor. She was ashamed of it. All sympathy, all yielding, all softness, filled her with shame. She hardened herself against it. Tonight she looked upon as a step in her great triumph. + 

There were twenty people in all besides Matthew and Sara. Of these, six were white. There was Mr. Graham, the Republican city boss, and with him a prominent banker and a high state official; Mrs. Beech, the president of the Woman’s City Club, was there, and a settlement worker from the stockyard district; and, of course, Mr. Cadwalader. Sara regarded the banker and the president of the City Club as distinct social triumphs for herself. It was something unique in colored Chicago. And especially on a cold and rainy night like this! + 

Besides these there were fourteen colored persons. First, Sammy and Corruthers. Sara had violently objected to the thin, redheaded and freckled Corruthers, but Sammy solemnly engaged to see that he arrived and departed sober and that he was kept in the background. He made up for this insistence by bringing two of his most intelligent ward leaders with their wives, who were young and pretty, although not particularly talkative, having, in truth, nothing to say. Sara had insisted upon the physician and his wife from Memphis and the minister and his wife. All of these were college-trained and used to social functions. Two colored editors had to be included, and two colored women representing Sara’s clubs. + 

The president of the Trade Unions’ City Central was at first included among the guests, but when he heard that the meeting was to be at a colored home and include a supper, he reneged. Mr. Murphy habitually ate with his knife and in his shirt sleeves and he didn’t propose “to have no niggers puttin’ on airs over him.” At the same time the unions must be represented; so the settlement worker was chosen at Mrs. Beech’s suggestion. + 

Sammy had pointed out rather perfunctorily that it might be a mistake not to include some radicals and that in any event they might send a delegation if they heard of the conference. Sara merely shrugged her shoulders, but Sammy saw to it that the left-wing unions did hear of the conference and of their exclusion. + 

The stage was set deftly in the large reception room opening in front on the glass-enclosed veranda. There was a little orchestra concealed here behind the ferns, and it was to play now and then while the company was gathering and afterward while they were eating. There were cigarettes and punch, and as Mr. Corruthers soon discovered, there were two kinds of punch. In the main reception room were soft chairs and a big couch, while thick portières closed off the dining-room and the entrance hall. To the right was the door to the little library, and here Matthew held his interviews, the door standing ajar. + 

Matthew sat beside a little table in a straight chair. There were pens, blotters, and writing materials, and all over, soft reflected lights. Sara and Sammy had general charge, and both were in their element. The company gathered rather promptly. Sara stood in the main parlor before the portières that veiled the dining-room, where she could receive the guests, entertain them, and send them to consultation with Matthew. Sammy stood between the hall and the reception room where he could welcome the guests, overlook the assembly, and keep his eye on Corruthers. + 

Everybody was overanxious to please, but the difficulties were enormous. There was no common center of small talk to unite black and white, educated and self-made. The current tittle-tattle of the physician’s and minister’s wives was not only Greek to the banker and the president of the City Club, but not at all clear to the wives of the colored politicians. The conversation between Mr. Cadwalader and the Republican bosses was a bit forced. Perhaps only in the case of the intelligent white settlement worker and the colored representatives of the Women’s Clubs was a new, purely delightful field of common interest discovered. + 

In Chicago as elsewhere, between white and colored, the obvious common ground was the Negro problem, and this both parties tried desperately to avoid and yet could not. They were always veering toward it. The editor and the banker sought to compare their respective conceptions of finance. But they never really got within understanding distance. Even Sara was at times out of her depth, in a serious definite conversation. With a particular person whom she knew or had measured she could shine. But the light and easy guidance of varied conversation in an assembly of such elements as these was rather beyond her. She hurried here and there, making a very complete and pleasing figure in her flesh-colored chiffon evening frock. But she was not quite at ease. + 

Sammy’s finesse helped to save the day, or rather the night. He had real humor of a kindly sort, and shrewd knowledge of practically everybody present. He supplied the light, frank touch. He subtly separated, grouped, entertained, and reseparated the individuals with rare psychology. He really did his best, and with as little selfishness as he was capable of showing. + 

The Republican boss, the banker, and the state official were among the earliest arrivals. They sat down with Matthew and entered into earnest conversation. Evidently, they were reading over the latest draft of the proposed platform. Sara was taut and nervous. She tried not to listen, but she could not help watching. She saw Matthew shift the papers until he exposed one that lay at the bottom. The two gentlemen read it and smiled. Quite carelessly and after continued conversation, Mr. Graham absently put the paper in his pocket. By and by they arose and mingled with the other guests. They were all smiling. The boss whispered to Sara that he was satisfied, perfectly satisfied. She knew Matthew had signed the paper. + 

Sara was radiant. She personally escorted the banker to a seat beside the president of the City Club. She did not know that these two were particularly uncongenial, but they were both well-bred and kept up polite conversation until Mrs. Beech excused herself to talk with Matthew. Matthew was a figure distraught and absentminded. His dress was much too negligent and careless to suit Sara, although he had put on his dinner jacket. Still, as Sara looked him over now and then, he did not make an altogether bad appearance. There was a certain inherent polish, an evidence of breeding which Sara always recognized with keen delight. It seemed easily to rise to the surface on occasions of this sort. Mr. Cadwalader and Mrs. Beech were now talking with Matthew. They seemed at first a little disturbed, but Sara was pleased to note that Matthew had aroused himself and was talking rather quickly and nervously but impressively. Evidently the two representatives of the liberal groups liked what he said. They called in the settlement worker. When at last they arose, all of them seemed pleased. + 

“I think,” said the president of the City Club, “we have come to a good understanding.” + 

“Really,” said Mr. Cadwalader, “much better than I had hoped for. You can count on us.” + 

Sara sighed. The thing was done. Of course, there was the difficulty of those radical Labor people, but these she regarded as on the whole the least difficult of the three groups. She would perhaps approach them again tomorrow. Even if she failed they could not do much harm now. + 

Sammy had about given up. It looked as though Matthew was going to be triumphantly nominated. In fact, he had just learned that Matthew had made one unexpected move, and whether it was stupid or astute, Sammy was undecided. Corruthers had told him that during that very afternoon the left-wing Labor people had got at Matthew and told him that they had not been included in the negotiations after that first visit of Sara, and that none of their representatives were invited to the conference tonight. Matthew had been closeted with them a couple of hours, but just what was said or done Sammy was unable to learn. Apparently his henchman, the young colored radical, was not present, and he could not find the Indian. His hope then that the radicals would burst in on this conference and make trouble at the last moment seemed groundless. Perhaps Matthew by some hocus-pocus had secured their silent assent. The Labor delegation would probably not arrive at all. + 

Meantime, this conference must get on. If success was sure, he must be in the band wagon. He gradually gathered his colored politicians out into the dining-room, where there was good liquor. He got the white women and the colored women on the porch in earnest conversation on settlement work for the South Side. The younger women and men, including the Republican boss and his friends, he brought together in the main reception room and started some sprightly conversation. All this was done while Sara had been arranging carefully and not too obviously the personal conferences with Matthew. Well, it was all over. + 

Then he noticed Corruthers beckoning to him furtively from the half-raised portières that led to the hall. He looked about. Various members of the colored group were talking with the whites, and Matthew had emerged from the little library and seemed to be having a pleasant chat with the minister. Sammy slipped out. + 

“Say,” said Corruthers, “that Labor delegation is here and they want to come in.” + 

Sammy pricked up his ears. + 

Aha! It looked as though something might happen after all. He walked over to Sara and imparted his news. + 

“Well, they are not coming in here,” said Sara. + 

“But,” expostulated Sammy, “they have evidently been invited.” + 

“Not by me,” snapped Sara. + 

“But I suspect by Matthew. He was with them this afternoon.” + 

Sara started and tapped her foot impatiently. But Sammy went on: + 

“Don’t you think it would be good politics to let them have their say? We don’t need to yield to them in any way.” + 

Sara was unwilling, but she saw the point. It was a shame to have this love feast broken into. Then a plan occurred to her. They need not come in here; they could meet Matthew in the little library. The door to the reception room could be closed, and they could enter from the hall. Meantime, Sammy saw Corruthers again beckoning excitedly from the door. He walked over quickly, and Corruthers whispered to him. + 

“My God!” said Sammy. “Hush, Corruthers, and don’t say another word. Here, come and have a drink!” + 

Then he hurried back to Sara. Sara interrupted him before he could speak. + 

“Take them into the library. I will have Matthew receive them.” She sauntered over to Matthew. “Matthew, dear, some of the Bolsheviks are here and want to talk to you. I have had them taken from the hall directly to the library. You can close the door. They will probably feel more at ease then.” + 

Matthew rose and said a little impatiently: “Why not have them in here?” + 

“They preferred the smaller room,” said Sara. “They are not exactly⁠—dressed for an evening function.” + 

And then, turning, she ordered the portières which concealed the dining-room to be thrown open, and as Matthew stepped into the small library, the blaze of Sara’s supper fell upon the company in the reception room. + 

The table was a goodly sight. The waiters were deft and silent. The music rose sweetly. The company was hungry, for it was nearly nine. Even Mrs. Beech, who had meant to dine in Hubbard Woods, changed her mind. Little tables with lace, linen, China, and silver were set about, and soon a regular dinner of excellent quality was being served. Tongues loosened, laughter rose, and a feeling of good fellowship began to radiate. Mr. Cadwalader and Mrs. Beech agreed sotto voce that really this was quite average in breeding and as a spectacle; they glowed at the rainbow of skins⁠—it was positively exciting. + 

Sammy was almost hilarious. He could not restrain a wink at Corruthers, and both of them simultaneously bolted for the hall in order to laugh freely and get some more of that other punch. Meantime, Sara’s unease increased. Her place and Matthew’s had been arranged at the edge of the dining-room at a table with Mrs. Beech and Mr. Graham. The banker, the state official, and the two pretty young politicians’ wives were at a table next, and the other tables were arranged as far as possible with at least one bit of color. + 

But where was Matthew? thought Sara impatiently. It was time for the toast and the great announcement⁠—the culmination of the feast and conference. Mrs. Beech asked for Mr. Towns. + 

“He’s having a last word with the Communists,” laughed Sara. + 

“Oh, are they here?” asked Mr. Cadwalader uneasily⁠—“at the last moment?” + 

“They wouldn’t come in⁠—they are asking about some minor matters of adjustment, I presume.” + 

But Sara knew she must interfere. She distrusted Matthew’s mushy indecision. To reopen the argument now might spoil all. She could stand it no longer. She arose easily, a delicate coffee cup in hand, and said a laughing word. She moved to the library door. Sammy watched her. The others sensed in different ways some slight uneasiness in the air. + 

“Well, Mr. Towns,” said Sara, pushing the door wide, “we⁠—” + 

The light of the greater room poured into the lesser⁠—searching out its shadows. The ugly Chinese god grinned in the corner, and a blue rug glowed on the floor. In the center two figures, twined as one, in close and quivering embrace, leapt, etched in startling outline, on the light. + 