children and the women; the men weren't much better." She said this
in a tone of surprise, and he nodded. "I can see now--I am supposed
to be too old for my age, and it was the hotels. You learn a great
deal."

"Do you like Mr. Moses Feldt?"

"Enormously; he is terribly sweet. I intend to marry a man just like
him. Or, at least, he was the second kind I decided on: the first
only had money, then I chose one with money who was kind, but now I
don't know. It's very funny: kindness makes me impatient. I'm
perfectly sure I'll never care for babies, they are so mussy. I
don't read, and I can't stand being--well, loved.

"Mother went to a great many parties; every one liked her and she
liked every one back; so it was easy for her. I used to long for the
time when I'd wear a lovely cloak and go out in a little shut motor
with a man with pearls; but now that's gone. They want to kiss you
so much. I wish that satisfied me. Why doesn't it? Is there anything
the matter with me, do you think? I've been told that I haven't any
heart."

As he laughed at her she noticed how absurdly small a cigarette
seemed in his broad powerful hand. "What has happened to you is
this," he explained: "a combination of special circumstances has
helped you in every way to be what, individually, you were. As a
rule, children are brought up in a house of lies, like taking a fine
naked body and binding it into hideous rigid clothes. You escaped
the damnation of cheap ready-cut morals and education. Your mother
ought to have a superb monument--the perfect parent. Of course you