Hobart, who had already been fighting “art battles” abroad, had little time in which to express opinions and Thurley, having word from Hortense Quinby that she expected to sail for overseas shortly, began to reflect on the social readjustment which would result from the needed advertising of charities, loans, what not, since the only logical advertisers and workers would be the hitherto domestic women who would now step beyond the firesides and lift up their voices. Thurley came to think more concerning Hobart’s vision, the final victory for America in establishing a new morale for permanent art than she did of the need for guns and men, although she generously wrote checks and sang gratis. As for Lissa, she believed in having things to do credit to her patriotism and her complexion simultaneously. A toque of blue poppies, a red tulle veil worn à la odalisque and a besashed and bepleated bit of white scenery for a frock, the American version of Nanette and Rintintin, faithful mascots who saved Paris from the Hun, worn on a silver cord, these completed her opinion of the war and in this outfit, to Thurley’s surprise and amusement, she appeared one warm May day to say languidly, “Being meatless day, I’ve taken the rat from the cat and am here for a cocktail. There’s a dear! Oh, hum, all my pupils are rushing off to be motor corps girls or kitchen drudges or something like that. When I have to appear enthusiastic and call them all little Joans of Arc, I feel like saying, ‘How can I conserve a cup of mush spilled on the kitchen oil cloth?’ and let them go forth properly shocked to the last bit of braided uniform! What does Bliss say about the opera? I should think with all those horrid German singers sent packing there would be a big opportunity for us home-growns. Bliss has always been obstinate about my appearing. I’m as sure of success as you are.” Before she left, Thurley understood the part Lissa meant to take in the war—to go overseas apparently to sing for the boys and in reality discover and capture a widower duke for her second husband. “Why not?” she asked. “I’m sure women have the right to seek their fortune?” “Not at such a time. They should be sure they are needed before they go across to eat up sugar and beef and wheat—even to take up space. There should be an examining bureau where every one could be proved a hundred per cent needed.” “Ridiculous! Think of the chance to know titled women. I wouldn’t wonder if I went to London after the war—a few titled patronesses and one is established! Of course you are bound to meet them over there, when they are all scrubbing floors and cooking. It’s so easy to become socially elevated these days! Look at the people right in America who have slaved at the Red Cross rooms to become socially exposed! Oh, I know the majority are self-sacrificing, but the other side is worth a place in history, too.”