Her father had served with distinction and honor this same commonwealth that her husband was debasing; he had been a statesman, not a politician, not a boss.

Blackford Singleton had belonged to the coterie that included such men as Hoar and Evarts, Thurman and Bayard; neither her imagination nor her affection could bridge the chasm that separated men of their type from her husband, who, in middle life, was content with a seat in the state legislature and busied himself with wars upon petty rivals.

Such reflections as these did not contribute to her peace of mind.
She was alone in her room at Mrs.Owen's when Bassett appeared, late in the afternoon.

Mrs.Owen was downtown on business matters; Marian, after exhausting all her devices for making her mother comfortable, had flown in search of acquaintances; and Sylvia had that day taken up her work in the normal school.

Left to herself for the greater part of the warm afternoon, Mrs.Bassett had indulged luxuriously in forebodings.