"You're right about several things. I probably was thoughtless about leaving you alone evenings--though it is _not_ true that I ever left you without provision for supper. And of course you've often left me alone back there in the hotel while you were off with other women--" "Now who's insinuating?" He performed another characteristic peroration. She did not listen, but stood with warning hand up, a small but plucky-looking traffic policeman, till he ceased, then went on: "But I can't really blame you. Even in this day when people like my friend Mamie Magen think that feminism has won everything, I suppose there must still be a majority of men like you--men who've never even heard of feminism, who think that their women are breed cattle. I judge that from the conversations I overhear in restaurants and street-cars, and these pretty vaudeville jokes about marriage that you love so, and from movie pictures of wives beating husbands, and from the fact that women even yet haven't the vote. I suppose that you don't really know many men besides the mucky cattle-drover sort, and I can't blame you for thinking like them--" "Say, what is all this cattle business about? I don't seem to recall we were discussing stockyards. Are you trying to change the conversation, so you won't even have to pack your grip before you call your own bluff about leaving me? Don't get it at all, at all!" "You will get it, my friend!... As I say, I can see--now it's too late--how mean I must have been to you often. I've probably hurt your feelings lots of times--" "You have, all right." "--but I still don't see how I could have avoided it. I don't blame myself, either. We two simply never could get together--you're two-thirds the old-fashioned brute, and I'm at least one-third the new, independent woman. We wouldn't understand each other, not if we talked a thousand years. Heavens alive! just see all these silly discussions of suffrage that men like you carry on, when the whole thing is really so simple: simply that women are intelligent human beings, and have the right--" "Now who mentioned suffrage? If you'll kindly let me know what you're trying to get _at_, then--" "You see? We two never could understand each other! So I'm just going to clean house. Get rid of things that clutter it up. I'm going, to-night, and I don't think I shall ever see you again, so do try to be pleasant while I'm packing. This last time.... Oh, I'm free again. And so are you, you poor, decent man. Let's congratulate each other." § 3 Despite the constant hammering of Mr. Schwirtz, who changed swiftly from a tyrant to a bewildered orphan, Una methodically finished her packing, went to a hotel, and within a week found in Brooklyn, near the Heights, a pleasant white-and-green third-floor-front. Her salary had been increased to twenty-five dollars a week.