in the order of the world, to enwheel me round and bid me welcome to that order.' That is the sort of self-realization to which I hope our sons and daughters are coming."
Cornelia smiled with a kind of malicious sweetness that she has. She was satisfied. She rather yearned, I perceived well enough, to remark that now at last I was taking the "stand" that she had taken from the first. But Cornelia is one of the few women now living who do not say everything that they yearn to say. She merely released one arrowy smile. Then she rose, as I had done already,—standing, she reminds one of Artemis,—and extending her hand, detained mine with another deep question. She asked me whether I knew any "living reason" to believe that my emancipated young people would return to that ideal.
The opportunity was irresistible.
"Yes," I said, "I have known you, Cornelia."
