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"Well, if we are, who's to blame?" rejoined Eleanor, spiritedly "Now,

Carley Burch, you listen to irl in

Aes of the

universe I adreatness Listen Here is a crying sin--an infernal paradox Take this

twentieth-century girl, this A and healthy girl, the reatest city on earth--New York! She holds

absolutely an unreal, untrue position in the scheme of existence

Surrounded by parents, relatives, friends, suitors, and instructive

schools of every kind, colleges, institutions, is she really happy, is

she really living?"

"Eleanor," interrupted Carley, earnestly, "she is not And I've been

trying to tell you why"

"My dear, let et a word in, will you," complained Eleanor "You

don't know it all There are as many different points of view as there

are people Well, if this girl happened to have a new frock, and a

new beau to show it to, she'd say, 'I' of the kind Only she doesn't know that She

approaches

had tootoo much Her

masculine satellites--father, brothers, uncles, friends, lovers--all

utterly spoil her Mind you, I irls like us, of the est and best class of Aoes on smoothly, as if its aim

was to exclude friction and effort Her husband makes it too easy for

her She is an ornae To

soil her pretty hands would be disgraceful! Even f she can't afford