Margaret Culkin Banning

“ There that dangerous touch of feminine dogmatism absorbed at Maud’s came into play. She was asking him to give up a meaningless relationship, to trust in her judgment, to fulfill her desire. If he would not sacrifice a thing which was worthless, if he would not trust her judgment, if he would not fulfill her desire, either he had not been honest in telling of the whole relationship between him and Rose Hubbell or he was a lover whose love was only skin deep. To such a preposterous pitch of unconscious arrogance had her feelings brought her. Those were sad days for Horatia. ”

“ If you were truly to work for woman’s welfare you had to abandon all the cushions of woman’s protected position, thought Helen—you couldn’t rest back on either wifehood or motherhood. You couldn’t be lazy. You had to make yourself fully yourself.
Here was her chance. She hadn’t wanted it but they had insisted. The women wanted her to go to Chicago—not because she was Mrs. Flandon but because she was Helen Flandon, herself. A little quiver of delight ran through Helen as she thought of it. She would see it through. Gage would surely not persist in his feeling. Surely he would change. ”

“ CHAPTER IX THE word love must not be narrowed or we shall lose the key to many a chamber of life. In our cross-section of life, which shows itself the most beautiful love? The love of Matthew which spends itself in pleasure in Cecily’s existence rather than in personal desire, the tornado which must storm the frail soul of Fliss, the rare devotion of Ellen, the servant, for her mistress, the fine normality of Dick’s feeling for his wife, or the love of Cecily herself, tormented and abused as such free-given love so often is tormented and abused by life? ”

“ Life in the country was easy enough but none the less full of events. There was a great deal of lazy intercourse with people, a great deal of exercise, motoring—and Horatia found that she was able to give herself up quite happily to the enjoyment of natural beauty—fresh morning air, sunsets on the little lake and green afternoons in the woods. She was not ashamed of that. The sensations of beauty and the elevation of spirit that came with it were so far from trivial that they justified her for feeling happy so soon after her break with Jim. ”

“ The nun did not smile. She had been cloistered in the convent many years and, perhaps because she had time to reflect upon them, was wise in the ways of the world. And she knew the reality of even the adolescent struggle.
“Cecily, dear, Father Aloysius called it your choice. It is yours. But only ultimately. Events, happenings which we cannot foresee but which come to us under the guidance of God, affect our choice in most matters. Do you see, dear—you can’t decide that now? You must wait and let events shape themselves—and only pray that your vision may be clear and your heart pure.” ”

“ She decided to take a taxi to the hospital and chose at random one from a row of disheveled looking “For Hire” machines waiting for the daily debouch of passengers from the Flyer. She climbed in with her bag and closed the shaky door, and the driver started his motor. Freda’s heart was racing. The cab could not go fast enough—nor slow enough. It seemed to her as if she could not bear what might be waiting of joy or sorrow, as if emotion was welling up so strong that it would burst its bounds and overcome her. ”

“ She had a memory of Jim’s great strength and of all the things he did—and how the doctor turned to him and asked things and of Jim’s calmness and readiness, and of one moment when he took a wailing Anna by the shoulders and sent her out of the room. Horatia did not wail. But her face was so white and so full of suffering that Jim kept close beside her ready for a collapse if it should come.
A fight for life is always terrible, but with a child, when the odds are so unequal, it is especially terrible. ”

“ Her voice was blurred into appreciations.
“Why let them starve?” asked Gregory.
“Perhaps because practical meat-and-drink body needs always claim the nourishment the things of your mind need—and you let the mind go hungry.”
“That’s it—that’s what people do—but you won’t. I hear it in your voice—see it in your face. The things in you are too vital to be starved. You can cripple them but you can’t kill them.”
“I do not know.”
“You must set yourself free.”
Freda smiled ruefully.
“That’s what women are always talking about and what they mean is a washing machine.” ”

“ Howard Ensign was following Cecily’s eyes.
“Isn’t Mrs. Allenby a lot of fun?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” answered Cecily, mechanically, “lots of fun.”
“She gives everybody such a good time.”
Fun. That was it. Fun, that god whom they all worshiped. Like a heathen god, like a great bright image, casting great shadows. Queer thought. She sat in the shadow while they worshiped the brightness. An impulse came to Cecily to call to Fliss to stop. She was pinning a flower in Dick’s buttonhole. It was a wager or a joke. Everybody was laughing. She had no right to touch Dick like that. Dick didn’t care. ”

“ But that was the end of our love. We wanted to see each other in little new bodies and we wanted to make a home for the babies and to give them everything good and lovely. Because we loved each other. If we hadn’t happened to meet each other we might have gone on forever without finding the right thing. I think there is a right thing, you know, a thing for everyone. Some people are born to be perpetually esthetic and some to keep the great tide of emotion flowing strong through the world—and some are meant to see babies and some to be good mental companions. ”

“ Margaret listened, her ready mind taking exception to some of the things he said, seeing how he played upon his audience—Walter and Helen listened with intellectual appreciation. But Gage, slouched down in his seat felt envy grow in him. There was before him what he had always wanted. A man who had something indestructible, something immortal to care for. A conviction—and an ideal—an outlet for his soul. He felt himself cheated.
He liked too to listen to the poems about women. No controversial tirades these poems—but verses soft and sweet and pliable as the essence of women—once had been. ”