"What other career is there for real women, I wonder? What,
for example, am I to do, Honora? There at the University I
prepared myself for fine work, but I'm trapped here in this
silly Silvertree cage. If I had a talent I could make out
very well, but I am talentless, and all I do now is to answer
the telephone for father and help mummy embroider the towels.
They won't let me do anything else. Some one asked me the
other day what colors I intended wearing this autumn. I
wanted to tell them smoke-of-disappointment, ashes-of-dreams,
and dull-as-wash-Monday. But I only said ashes-of-roses.
"'Not all of your frocks, surely, Kate,' one of the girls
cried. 'All,' I declared; 'street frocks, evening gowns,
all.' 'But you mustn't be odd,' my little friend warned.
'Especially as people are a little suspicious that you will
be because of your going to a co-educational college.'

"I thought it would be so restful here, but it doesn't offer
peace so much as shrinkage. Silvertree isn't pastoral--it's
merely small town. Of course it is possible to imagine a
small town that would be ideal--a community of quiet souls
leading the simple life. But we aren't great or quiet souls
here, and are just as far from simple as our purses and
experience will let us be.

"I dare say that you'll be advising me, as a student of
psychology, to stop criticizing and to try to do something
for the neighbors here--go in search of their submerged
selves. But, honestly, it would require too much
paraphernalia in the way of diving-bells and air-pumps.