"A cousin of mine, the only relative I had, died in Chicago, and I went to
his funeral. I happened to hear of the Carlow 'Herald' through an agent
there, the most eloquent gentleman I ever met. I was younger, and even
more thoughtless than now, and I had a little money and I handed it over
for the 'Herald.' I wanted to run a paper myself, and to build up a power!
And then, though I only lived here the first few years of my life and all
the rest of it had been spent in the East, I was born in Indiana, and, in
a way, the thought of coming back to a life-work in my native State
appealed to me. I always had a dim sort of feeling that the people out in
these parts knew more--had more sense and were less artificial, I mean--
and were kinder, and tried less to be somebody else, than almost any other
people anywhere. And I believe it's so. It's dull, here in Carlow, of
course--that is, it used to be. The agent explained that I could make the
paper a daily at once, with an enormous circulation in the country. I was
very, very young. Then I came here and saw what I had got. Possibly it is
because I am sensitive that I never let Tom know. They expected me to
amount to something; but I don't believe his welcome would be less hearty
to a failure--he is a good heart."
"Failure!" she cried, and clapped her hands and laughed.
"I'm really not very tragic about it, though I must seem consumed with
self-pity," he returned, smiling. "It is only that I have dropped out of
the world while Tom is still in it."
"Dropped out of the world!'" she echoed, impatiently. "Can't you see
you've dropped into it? That you----"
"Last night I was honored by your praise of my graceful mode of quitting
it!"
"And so you wish me to be consistent!" she retorted scornfully. "What
becomes of your gallantry when we abide by reason?"
"True enough; equality is a denial of privilege."
"And privilege is a denial of equality. I don't like that at all." She
turned a serious, suddenly illuminated face upon him and spoke earnestly.
"It's my hobby, I should tell you, and I'm very tired of that nonsense
about 'women always sounding the personal note.' It should be sounded as
we would sound it. And I think we could bear the loss of 'privilege'--"
He laughed and raised a protesting hand. "But we couldn't."
"No, you couldn't; it's the ribbon of superiority in your buttonhole. I
know several women who manage to live without men to open doors for them,
and I think I could bear to let a man pass before me now and then, or wear
his hat in an office where I happened to be; and I could get my own ice at
a dance, I think, possibly with even less fuss and scramble than I've
sometimes observed in the young men who have done it for me. But you know
you would never let us do things for ourselves, no matter what legal
equality might be declared, even when we get representation for our
taxation. You will never be able to deny yourselves giving us our
'privilege.' I hate being waited on. I'd rather do things for myself."