Mrs. Winthrop appreciated the symbolism of the costume, and used it in making a cautious approach to her subject. She said that Sylvia had wonderful gifts of beauty—not merely of the person, but of taste and understanding. Women so favored owed a great debt to life, and must needs feel keenly the desire to make recompense for their privileges. That, said Mrs. Winthrop, was something always present in her own thoughts. How could she pay for her existence? It was fatally easy to fall into the point of view of those who rebelled against social conditions, and justified the discontent of the poor. “You know, we have such people even in Boston,” she explained, “and they win a good deal of sympathy. But there is a deeper and saner view, it seems to me. Life must have its graces, its embellishments; there must be those who embody a higher ideal than mere animal comfort. I think we should take our stand there—we should justify ourselves, having the consciousness of a mission in preserving the allurements and amenities of life. People talk about the poor shop-girls, and how hard they have to work; they seem to desire that one should give up one’s ease, one’s culture, and go and join the shop-girls. But I say, No, I am not to be seduced by such arguments. I am something in the lives of those shop-girls, something definite, something vital; I am to them an uplifting vision, an ideal of grace and dignity. When one goes among the lower classes and sees the brutality, the sordid animalism of their lives—oh, it is terrifying! One flies back to the world of refinement and serenity as to a city of refuge.” Mrs. Winthrop paused. Her beautiful eyes had talked with her; they had gazed terrified into social abysses, and now they came back to regions of brooding calm. Sylvia was under their spell, and was not conscious of any extravagance in the lady’s next utterance: “Speaking with a deep conviction, I say that I am something necessary to life, that the world could not get on without me. I say, I am Beauty, I am Art! Have you ever felt that, Sylvia?” “I have thought a good deal about such things, Mrs. Winthrop. But as a rule, I only manage to bewilder myself and make myself unhappy. There is so much terrible suffering in the world!” “Yes,” said the other. “How many times I find myself asking, with tears in my eyes, ‘How can you be happy, while all around you the world is dying? Go, bow your head with shame, because you have been happy!’” And sure enough, Mrs. Winthrop bowed her head, and two glistening, pearly tears trickled slowly from her eyes. “It is a faith I have had to fight for,” she continued, “something I feel most earnestly about. For we live in times when, as it seems to me, civilization is threatened by the terrible forces of materialism—by the blind greed of the masses especially. And I think that we who have the task of keeping alive the flame of beauty ought to be aware of our mission, and to support one another.”