At any rate, to an independent barbarian like
myself--"
"My dear Betty," I interrupted with a laugh. "You a barbarian? You
whom I regard as the last word, the last charming and delightful
word, in modern womanhood?"
"Of course I'm the child of my century," she cried, flushing. "I
want votes, freedom, opportunity for expansion, power--everything
that can develop Betty Connor into a human product worthy of the
God who made her. But how she could fulfil herself without the
collaboration of a man, has baffled her ever since she was a girl
of sixteen, when she began to awake to the modern movement. On one
side I saw women perfectly happy in the mere savage state of
wifehood and motherhood, and not caring a hang for anything else,
and on the other side women who threw babies back into limbo and
preached of nothing but intellectual and political and economic
independence. Oh, I worried terribly about it, Majy, when I was a
girl. Each side seemed to have such a lot to say for itself. Then
it dawned upon me that the only way out of the dilemma was to
combine both ideals--that of the savage woman in skins and the
lady professor in spectacles. That is what, allowing for the
difference of sex, a man does.
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