Well, this friend isn't quite
so much absorbed in society and poker and dress. She's more like--well,
there's Mrs. Ruyler, for instance. She was very much like the rest of us,
and now we never see her. She's as devoted to ranching as her husband."
"There was sound bourgeois French blood there," he said shrewdly. "And she
wasn't brought up like the rest of you. Don't you forget that."
"Then you think we're hopeless?"
"No, I don't. Three or four women of your crowd--a little older, that's
all--are doin' first-rate in business, and they were light-headed enough
in their time, I'll warrant. And you, for instance--if you came up against
it--"
"Yes? What could I do?" cried Alexina gayly. "But alas! you admit you have
no imagination."
"Don't need any. You'd be good for several things. You could go into
the insurance business like Mrs. Lake, or into real estate like Mrs.
Cole--people like to have a pretty and stylish young lady showin' 'em
round flats. Or you could buy an orchard like the Ruylers--that'd require
capital. If we had the socialistic state you'd be put on one of the
thinking boards, so to speak. That's the point. You've got no training, but
you've got a thinker. You'd soon learn. But I'm not so sure of your
friend. Somehow, you've given me the impression she's just one of these
lady-birds."
"I'm afraid she is," said Alexina with a sigh. "But you're so good to take
an interest.
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