It followed closely.

I seemed to see a crowd of people and I felt that if I could only get to that crowd, somehow I would be safe, perhaps might even get over the wall and--I woke up--almost screaming." The woman's face was quite blanched.
"My dear," remonstrated Constance, "you must not take it so.
Remember--it was only a dream.
"I know it was only a dream," she said, "but you don't know what is back of it." Mildred Caswell had from time to time hinted to Constance of the growing incompatibility of her married life, but as Constance was getting used to confidences, she had kept silent, knowing that her friend would tell her in time.
"You must have guessed," faltered Mrs.Caswell, "that Forest and I are not--not on the best of terms, that we are getting further and further apart." It rather startled Constance to hear frankly stated what she already had observed.

She wondered how far the estrangement had gone.

The fact was that she had rather liked deForest Caswell, although she had only met her friend's husband a few times.

In fact she was surprised that momentarily there flashed through her mind the query as to whether Mildred herself might be altogether blameless in the growing uncongeniality.
Mildred Caswell had drawn out of her chatelaine a bit of newspaper and handed it to Constance, not as if it was of any importance to herself but as if it would explain better than she could tell what she meant.
Constance read: MME.