Selina took a calmer tone. "Maybe we're beginning to feel differently about these things, Auntie," curiously, as if wondering about it herself. "Maybe women are different from what you and the ones you knew were?"
"Lavinia," from Auntie, "do you hear your child?"
Selina overswept by the fury of swift and sudden rage, stamped her foot and—terrible as it is to have to set it down again—burst into tears.
"But I'm not a child! That's the trouble! If anybody'd only understand and—help me!"
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
One afternoon toward the end of April, Mamma came to Selina's door. Her manner was both pleased and excited.
"Mrs. Gwinne Tuttle is here in her carriage. Tuttle's sister, Mrs. Sampson, is with her. They've stopped by to take you driving."
Selina flushed. "I don't know that I want to go, Mamma."