"Oh," said Ethel tensely. Her sister shot a look at her.

"I don't care especially for Fanny's ideas about husbands," she said.
"But at least she has a love of a home." And Amy went on to explain to
her sister the value and importance of being able to give "week ends."
Again the gleam came into her eyes.

"It's money, my dear, it's money. They are the same women in Newport
exactly--just like all the rest of us--only they are richer. That's
all--but it is everything. Put me in a big house out there, and my
friends wouldn't know me in a few years."

A cloud came on her face as she looked in the glass.

"But that's just the trouble. A few years more and I'll be too late.
You've got to get there while you're young. And there's so little time.
You lose your looks. It's all very well for some women to talk about
ideas and things--and travel and--and children. I did, too, I talked a
lot--oh, how I wanted everything! But one has to narrow down. Thank
heaven, Ethel, you've years ahead. I've only got a few more left--I'm
already thirty-one. And my type ages fast in this town, if you do the
things you're expected to do. But you--oh, Ethel, I want you to marry
well! Not a millionaire--that's rather hard, and besides he'd probably
be too fat--but the kind who will be a millionaire, who has it written
all over his face and makes you feel it in his voice! Don't sell
yourself too cheap, my dear! Don't go running about with men who'll
keep you poor for the rest of your days. They talk so well--some of
them do; and it sounds so fine--ideas and books and pictures and--I knew
one who was an architect. And it's all very well for later on, but what