, was not disposed to question the propriety of her action.
That is, all except Mrs. Taylor. In her, Selma thought she had detected
signs of coldness, a sort of suspicious reservation of judgment, which
contrasted itself unpleasantly with the sympathetic attitude of the
others, who were fain to refer to her, in not altogether muffled
whispers, as a plucky, independent, little woman. Hence, she was glad
that Mrs. Taylor happened to be detained at home by illness on this
afternoon, and that, accordingly, she was free to enjoy unreservedly the
dramatic nature of the situation. Her heart beat a little faster as the
chairman, turning to her to ask a question, addressed her unmistakably
as Mrs. White. She could not refrain from casting half-amused,
half-pathetic sheep's eyes at Littleton. He started visibly, regarded
her for, a moment in obvious amazement, then flushed to the roots of his
hair. She felt the blood rising to her own cheeks, and a sensation of
mild triumph. The meeting was over and the members were merely lingering
to tie up the loose threads of the matter arranged for. In a few moments
Selma found herself with the architect sufficiently apart from the
others for him to ask:

"Two persons have addressed you this afternoon as Mrs. White. I do not
understand."

She cast down her eyes, as a woman will when a question of modesty is
involved, then she raised them and said: "You did not know, then, that I
had left my husband?"

"Left him?"

"Yes. I have obtained a divorce. He was unfaithful to me."

"I see"--said Littleton with a sort of gasp--"I see. I did not know. You
never wrote to me."

"I did not feel like writing to any body. There was nothing to be done
but that."

Littleton regarded her with a perturbed, restless air.

"Then you live no longer at 25 Onslow Avenue?"

"Oh, no. I left there more than six months ago. I live in lodgings. I am
supporting myself by literary work. I am Mrs. Selma White now, and my
divorce has been absolute more than a month."

She spoke gravely and quietly, with less than her usual assurance, for
she felt the spell of his keen, eager scrutiny and was not averse to
yield at the moment to the propensity of her sex. She wondered what he
was thinking about. Did he blame her? Did he sympathize with her?

"Where are you going when you leave here?" he asked.

"Home--to my new home. Will you walk along with me?"

"That is what I should like. I am astonished by what you have t