“I should think it would be unpleasant to have the details of one’s appearance described by the press.”

Flossy’s doubts had returned in full force during the conversation.  She said to herself, “I wonder if that is true?  I wonder if it wouldn’t be the very thing she would like?” But she answered blithely, “Oh, one gets used to it.  Then I can’t take you anywhere?  I’m sorry.  Some day I hope my round of gayety will cease, so that we can have a quiet evening together.  I miss your husband.  I always find him suggestive and interesting.”

“‘Her round of gayety!  A quiet evening together!’” murmured Selma as she walked away.  “Wilbur is right; purse-proud, frivolous little thing!  She is determined to destroy our friendship.”

Four weeks subsequent to this meeting the newspapers contained a fulsome account of a dancing party given by Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Williams—­“an elegant and recherche entertainment,” in the language of the reporter.  A list of the company followed, which Selma scrutinized with a brow like a thunder-cloud.  She had acquired a feverish habit of perusing similar lists, and she recognized that Flossy’s guests—­among the first of whom were Mr. and Mrs. Morton Price and the Misses Price—­were chiefly confined to persons whom she had learned to know as members of fashionable society.  She read, in the further phraseology of the reporter, that “it was a small and select affair.”  At the end of the list, as though they had been invited on sufferance as a business necessity, were the Parsonses; but these were the only former associates of the Williamses.  Selma had just finished her second reading of this news item when her meditation was interrupted by the voice of her husband, who had been silent during dinner, as though he had some matter on his mind, and was at the moment sitting close by, on the other side of the lamp which lighted the library table.

“I fear you will be disappointed, Selma, but I have informed Mr. Parsons definitely this morning, that he must get another architect.  The ideas of his wife and daughter are hopelessly at variance with mine.  He seemed to be sorry—­indeed, I should think he was a reasonable and sensible man—­but he said that he was building to please Mrs. Parsons, and we both agreed that under the circumstances it was necessary that she should make a fresh start.  He asked me to send my bill, and we parted on the best of terms.  So it is all over, and except from the point of view of dollars and cents, I am very glad.  Only the remembrance that you had set your heart on my making this my masterpiece, prevented me from throwing over the contract weeks ago.  Tell me, Selma mia, that you approve of what I have done and congratulate me.”  He pulled forward his chair so that he might see her face without interference from the lamp and leaned toward her with frank appeal.

“Yes, I had set my heart on it, and you knew it.  Yet you preferred to give up this fine opportunity to show what you could do and to get business worth having rather than sacrifice your own ideas as to how a house should be built to the ideas of the women who were to live in it.  I dare say I should agree with them, and that the things which they wished and you objected to were things I would have insisted on having.”