"I should think," said Selma, continuing to gaze, with her far away look, over the vista of roofs which the top story of the apartment house commanded, "that you would be a great deal happier than if you had married him."
The pause which ensued caused her to look round, and add jauntily, "I have heard, you know, about Dr. Page."
A wave of crimson spread over Pauline's face—the crimson of wounded surprise, which froze Selma's genial intentions to the core.
"I didn't think you'd mind talking about it," she said stiffly.
"There's nothing to talk about. Since you have mentioned it, Dr. Page is a dear friend of mine, and will always continue to be, I hope."
"Oh, I knew you were nothing but friends now," Selma answered. She felt wounded in her turn. She had come with the wish to be gracious and companionable, and it had seemed to her a happy thought to congratulate Pauline on the wisdom of her decision. She did not like people who were not ready to be communicative and discuss their intimate concerns.
The episode impaired the success of the first morning visit. At the next, which occurred a fortnight later, Pauline announced that she had a piece of interesting news.
"Do you know a Mr. Joel Flagg in Benham?"
"I know who he is," said Selma. "I have met his daughter."
"It seems he has made a fortune in oil and real estate, and is desirous to build a college for women in memory of his mother, Sarah Wetmore. One of my friends has just received a letter from a Mrs. Hallett Taylor, to whom Mr. Flagg appears to have applied for counsel, and who wishes some of us who are interested in educational matters to serve as an advisory committee. Probably you know Mrs. Taylor too?"