"when a properly trained person cannot present at least the appearance of discretion?"
"My dear Cornelia," I said, "do you ever glance through those columns in our great national fireside magazines, in which wise old editors converse with their contributors and advise young girls how to catch a man?"
Cornelia smiled, and then abruptly became very firm and grave. "That is it," she said. "That is exactly it—'how to catch a man'! And the dreadful thing is that the tone of our entire popular discussion and our popular literature is just about at that level—as if the mere possession of anything in the shape of a man were so unquestionably desirable that no scruple must be raised regarding his family and social position, his religion and principles of personal conduct, his property and prospects and professional standing. We are becoming absurd in our carelessness about such matters."
"But that," I protested, "is just what makes the beauty of life in America."
"That," said Cornelia, "is what makes American life so ugly—no respect for any of the things that make people respectable, no sense for the substantial basis of social distinctions, no regard for
