And as for the question of the old man; how could women who lived so have strong sons and daughters? I thought of all the painted women of all the great cities of the world--those flaunting their silks and furs and jewels under the electric glare of the great thoroughfares, inviting with smiles and glances; and those others, shivering, wrapping their rags about them in dark corners, croaking, cackling, and clutching desperately, hoping to earn, in an ancient profession of civilization, enough to buy food and drink sufficient to keep life a little longer in unclean, diseased bodies. These women had no children; but I thought of their male companions; some their victims; some who had victimized and had started certain of the painted ones in their profession; some merely the boon companions of an hour. And I thought of hospitals I had visited; of operations that I had witnessed on the wives of the men who had “settled down after sowing a few wild oats”--years of agony in one life as a vicarious atonement for perhaps one night of wine and laughter and song in the life of another. And I thought of children I had seen, and of grandchildren.... It made it a little difficult to explain clearly, to the old man and the old woman, the benefits of a system inextricably interwoven with civilization, ancient and modern; and the reason why this system lent a delicate zest to the art of civilized living. And part of my wonder to-day is: Supposing, _supposing_, this art--this profession--had never been introduced into society----? Almost as difficult to answer as was the question of the reason why of money-taking in exchange for love were other questions put to me by aboriginal friends in connection with money. Why money at all? What were the benefits of this “recognized medium of exchange,” and of the great banking systems, which are part of the economic fabric of every civilization of the world. I gave a few coins to some men and women of the Yami tribe; they began to beat them out into thin plates to add to their helmets. I gave some to the Ami people; they drilled holes in them and fastened them, as ornamental buttons, to their blankets. Those that I gave to the Paiwan they inserted in holes in their ears--all except one young warrior who set his _ni-ju-sen_[108] piece among the boars’ tusks that ornamented his cap. The Taiyal priestess to whom I gave a _go-ju-sen_[109] piece regarded it with reverence, and carefully wrapped it in a banana-leaf. A short time afterwards I saw her, sitting by the bedside of a patient, balancing the _go-ju-sen_ on a bamboo-rod, gripped between her knees; the small stone generally used on such occasions--mentioned in the chapter ILLNESS AND DEATH--having been replaced by the shining silver coin.