I'm not taking into
consideration the new-woman species, the faddist or the reformer. I mean
normal girls like you and me. Just think, Carley. A girl's every wish,
every need, is almost instantly satisfied without the slightest effort on
her part to obtain it. No struggle, let alone work! If women crave to
achieve something outside of the arts, you know, something universal and
helpful which will make men acknowledge her worth, if not the equality,
where is the opportunity?"
"Opportunities should be made," replied Carley.
"There are a million sides to this question of the modern young woman--the
fin-de-siecle girl. I'm for her!"
"How about the extreme of style in dress for this remarkably-to-be-pitied
American girl you champion so eloquently?" queried Carley, sarcastically.
"Immoral!" exclaimed Eleanor with frank disgust.
"You admit it?"
"To my shame, I do."
"Why do women wear extreme clothes? Why do you and I wear open-work silk
stockings, skirts to our knees, gowns without sleeves or bodices?"
"We're slaves to fashion," replied Eleanor, "That's the popular excuse."
"Bah!" exclaimed Carley.
Eleanor laughed in spite of being half nettled. "Are you going to stop
wearing what all the other women wear--and be looked at askance? Are you
going to be dowdy and frumpy and old-fashioned?"
"No.
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