ympathy with the
perplexities which beset the path of an ambitious public man. They
suggested a subtle appreciation of the reasonableness of his behavior,
notwithstanding its apparent failure to tally with his outward
professions.

Selma's reply interrupted this rhapsody.

"I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I quarrelled with Mrs. Williams
before I left New York. Or, rather, she quarrelled with me. She insulted
me in my own house, and I was obliged to order her to leave it."

"Quarrelled? That is a pity. An open break? Open breaks in friendship
are always unfortunate." Lyons looked grieved, and fingered his beard
meditatively.

"I appreciate," said Selma, frankly, "that our falling out will be an
inconvenience in case we should meet in Washington or elsewhere, since
you and Mr. Williams have business interests in common. Of course,
James, I wish to help you in every way I can. I might as well tell you
about it. I think she was jealous of me and fancied I was trying to cut
her out socially. At all events, she insinuated that I was not a lady,
because I would not lower my standards to hers, and adopt the frivolous
habits of her little set. But I have not forgotten, James, your
suggestion that people in public life can accomplish more if they avoid
showing resentment and strive for harmony. I shall be ready to forget
the past if Mrs. Williams will, for my position as your wife puts me
beyond the reach of her criticism. She's a lively little thing in her
way, and her husband seems to understand about investments and how to
get ahead."

They went direct to Washington without stopping at Benham. It was
understood that the new session of Congress was to be very short, and
they were glad of an opportunity to present themselves in an official
capacity at the capital as a conclusion to their honeymoon, before
settling down at home. Selma found a letter from Miss Bailey, containing
the news that Pauline Littleton had accepted the presidency of Wetmore
College, the buildings of which were now practically completed. Selma
gasped as she read this. She had long ago decided that her
sister-in-law's studies were unpractical, and that Pauline was doomed to
teach small classes all her days, a task for which she was doubtless
well fitted. She resented the selection, for, in her opinion, Pauline
lacked the imaginative talent of Wilbur, and yet shared his subjective,
unenthusiastic ways. More than once it had occurred to her that the