They said in Washington at the time that Mrs. Henderson was one of the most fascinating of women, amiable, desirous to please, approachable, and devoted to the interests of her husband.  If some of the women, residents in established society, were a little shy of her, if some, indeed, thought her dangerous—­women are always thinking this of each other, and surely they ought to know-nothing of this appeared in the reports.  The men liked her.  She had so much vivacity, such esprit, she understood men so well, and the world, and could make allowances, and was always an entertaining companion.  More than one Senator paid marked court to her, more than one brilliant young fellow of the House thought himself fortunate if he sat next her at dinner, and even cabinet officers waited on her at supper.  It could not be doubted that a smile and a confidential or a witty remark from Mrs. Henderson brightened many an evening.  Wherever she went her charming toilets were fully described, and the public knew as well as her jewelers the number and cost of her diamonds, her necklaces, her tiaras.  But this was for the world and for state occasions.  At home she liked simplicity.  And this was what impressed the reporters when, in the line of their public duty, they were admitted to her presence.  With them she was very affable, and she made them feel that they could almost be classed with her friends, and that they were her guardians against the vulgar publicity, which she disliked and shrank from.

There went abroad, therefore, an impression of her amiability, her fabulous wealth in jewels and apparel, her graciousness and her cleverness and her domesticity.  Her manners seemed to the reporters those of a “lady,” and of this both her wit and freedom from prudishness and her courteous treatment of them convinced them.  And the best of all this was that while it was said that Henderson was one of the boldest and shrewdest of operators, and a man to be feared in the Street, he was in his family relations one of the most generous and kind-hearted of men.

Henderson himself had not much time for the frivolities of the season, and he evaded all but the more conspicuous social occasions, at which Carmen, sometimes with a little temper, insisted that he should accompany her.  “You would come here,” he once said, “when you knew I was immersed in most perplexing business.”

“And now I am here,” she had replied, in a tone equally wanting in softness, “you have got to make the best of me.”

Was Jack happy in the whirl he was in?  Some days exceedingly so.  Some days he sulked, and some days he threw himself with recklessness born of artificial stimulants into the always gay and rattling moods of Miss Tavish.  Somehow he could get no nearer to Henderson or to Mavick than when he was in New York.  Not that he could accuse Mavick of trying to conceal anything; Mavick bore to him always the open, “all right” attitude, but there were things that he did not understand.