“Very likely,” I answered.  “Still, we cannot well help ourselves.  Unless we give a party, we shall have to decline invitations in future.  But there is no obligation resting on us to make it sensational.  Let the Hardings and the Marygolds emulate extravagance in this line; we must be content with a fair entertainment; and no friend worth the name will have any the less respect for us.”

“All that is a question of money and good fame,” said my husband, his voice falling into a more serious tone.  “I can make it three, five, or ten hundred dollars, and forget all about the cost in a week.  But the wine and the brandy will not set so easily on my conscience.”

A slight but sudden chill went through my nerves.

“If we could only throw them out?”

“There is no substitute,” replied my husband, “that people in our circle would accept.  If we served coffee, tea, and chocolate instead, we would be laughed at.”

“Not by the fathers and mothers, I think.  At least not by those who have grown-up-sons,” I returned.  “Only last week I heard Mrs. Gordon say that cards for a party always gave her a fit of low spirits.  She has three sons, you know.”

“Rather fast young men, as the phrase is.  I’ve noticed them in supper-rooms, this winter, several times.  A little too free with the wine.”

We both stood silent for the space of nearly a minute.

“Well, Agnes,” said my husband, breaking the silence, “how are we to decide this matter?”

“We must give a party, or decline invitations in future,” I replied.

“Which shall it be?” His eyes looked steadily into mine.  I saw that the thing troubled him.

“Turn it in your thought during the day, and we’ll talk it over this evening,” said I.

After tea my husband said, laying down the newspaper he had been reading and looking at me across the centre-table, “What about the party, Agnes?”

“We shall have to give it, I suppose.”  We must drop out of the fashionable circle in which I desired to remain; or do our part in it.  I had thought it all over—­looking at the dark side and at the bright side—­and settled the question.  I had my weaknesses as well as others.  There was social eclat in a party, and I wanted my share.

“Wine, and brandy, and all?” said my husband.

“We cannot help ourselves.  It is the custom of society; and society is responsible, not we.”

“There is such a thing as individual responsibility,” returned my husband.  “As to social responsibility, it is an intangible thing; very well to talk about, but reached by no law, either of conscience or the statute-book.  You and I, and every other living soul, must answer to God for what we do.  No custom or law of society will save us from the consequences of our own acts.  So far we stand alone.”

“But if society bind us to a certain line of action, what are we to do?  Ignore society?”