"Then, what is a business girl to do?" asked Catharine, vaguely.

Athalie shook her golden head, slowly: "Don't ask me."

Catharine said, still more vaguely: "She must do

something--pleasant--before she's too old and sick to--to care what

happens."

"I know it.... Men, of that kind, are pleasant.... I don't see why

we shouldn't go out with them. It's all the chance we have. Or will

ever have.... I've thought it over. I don't see that it helps for us

to resent their sisters and mothers and friends. Such women would

never permit us to know them. The nearest we can get to them is to

know their sons."

"I don't want to know them--"

"Yes, you do. Be honest, Catharine. Every girl does. And really I

believe if the choice were offered a business girl, she would rather

know the mothers and sisters than the sons."

"There's no use thinking about it," said Catharine.

"No, there is no use.... And so I don't see any harm in being friends

with their sons.... It will hurt at times--humiliate us--maybe

embitter us.... But it's that or nothing."

"We needn't be silly about their sons."

Athalie opened her dark blue eyes, then laughed confidently: "Oh, as

for anything like that! I should hope not. We three ought to know

something by this time."

"I should think so," murmured Catharine; and her warm, wine-scented

breath fell on Athalie's cheek.




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