hen we are
firmly established, to be ugly to them. But at present the publicity is
rather convenient and amusing," she exclaimed, with a gay shake of her
head, which set her ringlets bobbing.

"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 t