Her limited cordiality having no effect at all on the matronly conversation, she fled again to the kitchen and took refuge with Ellen, who was already busy with the red georgette dress. Fliss put it on to demonstrate its lacks and possibilities and became, with the donning of it, a curiously unsuitable figure to mix with pots and pans, melted butter and lobster. Fliss was decorative and stimulating enough to be out of place in the midst of mere utilities. “My, how I hate that gang in there,” she said. Ellen continued cutting deftly. “Why?” “They’re so awfully cheap.” “How do you mean? Clothes?” “Clothes, of course, but I could stand that if they weren’t so cheap in their ideas--if they had some ambition--if they weren’t so ghastly self-satisfied. Look at them in there, playing cards all the blessed afternoon for a silly, ugly painted plate.” Fliss knew what was inside the tissue paper packages on the mantel. “Most women play cards. All the women you admire so much have bridge-luncheons.” “I know, but they play for something worth while; give the proceeds to charities.” “I’ve seen them playing for money that they couldn’t afford to lose,” answered Ellen. “Well--even that. My goodness, it’s better to play for money--have real stakes--than to get all worked up and hot and cross over silly cake plates. Oh, I don’t know--the other women are so different, anyway, so much more alive. This is sort of sordid.” “Um----,” said Ellen noncommittally. “If I thought,” went on Fliss, “that I would settle down and get like those old harpies, I’d--well, I’d just want to die now,” finished Fliss, with drama. Ellen did not seem impressed. “People are different, Fliss,” she said gravely. “They’re nice women--these friends of your ma’s--even if they don’t seem very genteel. And it’s been my experience that it’s best to take folks as you find them.” “I don’t want to take folks like this--at all. I just want to get away from them.” “So you do; but your ma likes them. They’re the people she knows best and some of them have been awfully good to her. She was telling me how Mrs. Ellis----” “I know, Ellen. She probably enjoyed it, too. All those women think about is babies and who’s going to have one next.” Ellen flushed a little. “That’s awful talk, Fliss.” “Awful! It’s all you hear. Honestly, I don’t know who’s worst--the women in there or the girls I know. If you get shocked at a little thing like that, you ought to hear the way the girls talk. Marjorie Foster--she’s Marjorie Grant now--who was married last month had all the girls in to tea the other day. And you should hear them talk! All about their husbands--and babies--and such.” The flush on Ellen’s face had risen to her very eyebrows. “Well, you needn’t talk it to me, Fliss. I think it’s disgusting. I may be country and all that, but I know what’s decent and I don’t think girls who talk like that are.”