You don't understand. You know it seems
to me, Mrs. Blair, that most people, women, anyhow, are like great big
houses with only half the rooms in use. The mentality closed up and
musty from disuse because they have never found or made the keys. I want
my child to live roundly--in all her mental rooms. What is the use
closing off any part of a house that was meant for light and sunshine? I
want her to know the world she lives in from attic to cellar. The good
from the bad, so that, knowing the bad, she can love more the good. The
right to live!"
"You're for woman's rights. You're one of those suffragists."
"I guess I am if woman's rights mean more breadth, more beauty, more
realization of our latent selves. Oh, I don't know what I mean. That's
been my curse."
In the darkness Mrs. Blair put up a hand to the sheen of Lilly's flowing
hair.
"You poor child! You funny girl. You need--"
"What?"
"The right man to sweep you off your feet."
"I knew you were going to say that. No, you're wrong. I'm not
essentially a man's woman, Mrs. Blair. Sex isn't even as big a part of
my life as it is of most women's.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364