passing--this matter was a
trifle beside the hideous brutalities of men compelling masses of their
fellow beings, children no less than grown people, to toil at things
killing soul, mind and body simply in order that fortunes might be
made! THERE was lack of consideration worth thinking about.

Three more autos passed--three more clouds of dust, reducing Selma to
extreme physical discomfort. Her philosophy was severely strained.
She was in the country now; but even there she was pursued by these
insolent and insulting hunters of pleasure utterly indifferent to the
comfort of their fellows. And when a fourth auto passed, bearing Jane
Hastings in a charming new dress and big, becoming hat--Selma, eyes and
throat full of dust and face and neck and hands streaked and dirty,
quite lost her temper. Jane spoke; she turned her head away,
pretending not to see!

Presently she heard an auto coming at a less menacing pace from the
opposite direction. It drew up to the edge of the road abreast of her.
"Selma," called Jane.

Selma paused, bent a frowning and angry countenance upon Jane.

Jane opened the door of the limousine, descended, said to her
chauffeur: "Follow us, please." She advanced to Selma with a timid
and deprecating smile. "You'll let me walk with you?" she said.

"I am thinking out a very important matter," replied Selma, with frank
hostility. "I prefer not to be interrupted."

"Selma!" pleaded Jane. "What have I done to turn you against me?"

Selma stood, silent, incarnation of freedom and will. She looked
steadily at Jane. "You haven't done anything," she replied. "On
impulse I liked you. On sober second thought I don't. That's all."

"You gave me your friendship," said Jane. "You've no right to withdraw
it without telling me why."

"You are not of my class. You are of the class that is at war with
mine--at war upon it. When you talk of friendship to me, you are
either false to your own people or false in your professions to me."

Selma's manner was rudely offensive--as rude as Jane's dust, to which
it was perhaps a retort. Jane showed marvelous restraint. She told
herself that she felt compassionate toward this attractive, honest,
really nice girl. It is possible, however, that an instinct of
prudence may have had something to do with her ultra-conciliatory
attitude toward the dusty little woman in the cheap linen dress. The
enmity of one so near to Victor Dorn was certainly not an adva