Selma’s house lay well to the south-west of Central Avenue, far enough removed from the River Drive and the Flagg mansion to be humble and yet near enough to be called looking up.  Their row was complete and mainly occupied, but the locality was a-building, and in the process of making acquaintance.  So many strangers had come to Benham that even Babcock knew but few of their neighbors.  Without formulating definitely how it was to happen, Selma had expected to be received with open arms into a society eager to recognize her salient qualities.  But apparently, at first glance, everybody’s interest was absorbed by the butcher and grocer, the dressmaker and the domestic hearth.  That is, the other people in their row seemed to be content to do as they were doing.  The husbands went to town every day—­town which lay in the murky distance—­and their wives were friendly enough, but did not seem to be conscious either of voids in their own existence or of the privilege of her society.  To be sure, they dressed well and were suggestive in that, but they looked blank at some of her inquiries, and appeared to feel their days complete if, after the housework had been done and the battle fought with the hired girl, they were able to visit the shopping district and pore over fabrics, in case they could not buy them.  Some were evidently looking forward to the day when they might be so fortunate as to possess one of the larger houses of the district a mile away, and figure among what they termed “society people.”  There were others who, in their satisfaction with this course of life, referred with a touch of self-righteousness to the dwellers on the River Drive as deserving reprobation on account of a lack of serious purpose.  This criticism appealed to Selma, and consoled her in a measure for the half mortification with which she had begun to realize that she was not of so much account as she had expected; at least, that there were people not very far distant from her block who were different somehow from her neighbors, and who took part in social proceedings in which she and her husband were not invited to participate.  Manifestly they were unworthy and un-American.  It was a comfort to come to this conclusion, even though her immediate surroundings, including the society of those who had put the taunt into her thoughts, left her unsatisfied.

Some relief was provided at last by her church.  Babcock was by birth an Episcopalian, though he had been lax in his interest during early manhood.  This was one of the matters which he had expected marriage to correct, and he had taken up again, not merely with resignation but complacency, the custom of attending service regularly.  Dr. White had been a controversial Methodist, but since his wife’s death, and especially since the war, he had abstained from religious observances, and had argued himself somewhat far afield from the fold of orthodox belief.  Consequently Selma, though she attended church at Westfield when her father’s