could know anything about it. It was a kind of
freemasonry, we said.

Although Jim Burden and I both live in New
York, and are old friends, I do not see much of
him there. He is legal counsel for one of the
great Western railways, and is sometimes away
from his New York office for weeks together.
That is one reason why we do not often meet.
Another is that I do not like his wife.

When Jim was still an obscure young lawyer,
struggling to make his way in New York, his
career was suddenly advanced by a brilliant
marriage. Genevieve Whitney was the only
daughter of a distinguished man. Her marriage
with young Burden was the subject of sharp
comment at the time. It was said she had been
brutally jilted by her cousin, Rutland Whitney,
and that she married this unknown man from
the West out of bravado. She was a restless,
headstrong girl, even then, who liked to aston-
ish her friends. Later, when I knew her, she was
always doing something unexpected. She gave
one of her town houses for a Suffrage head-
quarters, produced one of her own plays at the
Princess Theater, was arrested for picketing
during a garment-makers' strike, etc. I am
never able to believe that she has much feeling
for the causes to which she lends her name and
her fleeting interest. She is handsome, energetic,

[[x]]

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