She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. It seems to me very silly. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. Your father…. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty.
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