Many things took on a different complexion now that she stood alone.
No concrete evidence of change stood forth preeminent. It was largely
subjective, atmospheric, intangible impressions.
Always with a heart sinking she came back to the empty apartment,
knowing that it would be empty. During Bill's transient absence of the
spring she had missed him scarcely at all. She could not say that now.
And slowly but surely she began to view all her activities of her
circle with a critical eye. She was brought to this partly in
self-defense. Certain of her friends had become tentative enemies.
Kitty Brooks and the Bray womenfolk, who were a numerous and
influential tribe, not only turned silent faces when they met, but they
made war on her in the peculiar fashion of women. A word here, a
suggestive phrase there, a shrug of the shoulders. It all bore fruit.
Other friends conveyed the avid gossip. Hazel smiled and ignored it.
But in her own rooms she raged unavailingly.
Her husband had left her. There was a man in the case. They had lost
everything. The first count was sufficiently maddening because it was
a half truth. And any of it was irritating--even if few
believed--since it made a choice morsel to digest in gossipy corners,
and brought sundry curious stares on Hazel at certain times.
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