"He thinks I'm 'only a woman,' fit for nothing but to look pretty as long as I'm a girl, and then to devote myself to a husband and children, without any life or even ideas of my own." "Mother always seems cheerful enough," said Arthur.

His content with the changed conditions which the prosperity and easy-going generosity of the elder generation were making for the younger generation ended at his own sex.

The new woman--idle and frivolous, ignorant of all useful things, fit only for the show side of life and caring only for it, discontented with everybody but her own selfish self--Arthur had a reputation among his friends for his gloomy view of the American woman and for his courage in expressing it.
"You are _so_ narrow-minded, Artie!" his sister exclaimed impatiently.
"Mother was brought up very differently from the way she and father have brought me up--" "Have let you bring yourself up." "No matter; I _am_ different." "But what would you do?
What can a woman do ?" "I don't know," she admitted.

"But I _do_ know I hate a humdrum life." There was the glint of the Ranger will in her eyes as she added: "Furthermore, I shan't stand for it." He looked at her enviously.

"You'll be free in another year," he said.
"You and Ross Whitney will marry, and you'll have a big house in Chicago and can do what you please and go where you please." "Not if Ross should turn out to be the sort of man you are." He laughed.