"I admire his independence. He was quite right. What do Mrs. Parsons or her daughter know about architecture? Everybody is laughing at them. You know I consider your husband a friend of mine, Selma."
"And we were friends, too, I believe?" Selma exclaimed, after a moment of stern silence.
"Naturally," responded Flossy, with a slightly sardonic air, prompted by the acerbity with which the question was put.
"Then, if we were friends—are friends, why have you ceased to associate with us, simply because you live in another street and a finer house?"
Flossy gave a gasp. "Oh," she said to herself, "it's true. She is jealous. Why didn't I appreciate it before?"
"Am I not associating with you now by calling on you, Selma?" she said aloud. "I don't understand what you mean."
"You are calling on me, and you asked us to dinner to meet—to meet just the people we knew already, and didn't care to meet; but you have never asked us to meet your new friends, and you left us out when you gave your dancing party."
"You do not dance."
"How do you know?"
"I have never associated you with dancing. I assumed that you did not dance."