Birth comes. Birth-- The breathing re-creation of the earth! All earth, all sky, all God, life's sweet deep whole, Newborn again to each new soul! "Oh, are you? What a shame! Too bad, my dear! How will you stand it, too. It's very queer The dreadful trials women have to carry; But you can't always help it when you marry. Oh, what a sweet layette! What lovely socks! What an exquisite puff and powder box! Who is your doctor? Yes, his skill's immense-- But it's a dreadful danger and expense!" It's all a powder-puff matter: marriage means new clothes, gifts, and a house to play with. It gives her another chance to get something for nothing--which is immoral. But the beauty of the situation is that the immorality (thanks to our habits of not thinking straight) is so perfectly concealed: it even appears that she is the one who does the giving. As for any bother about sex, she'll soon put an end to that. And so she goes on her pirate ways, luring for the sake of the lure, adding her voice to the already swelled chorus which proclaims that truth and beauty lodge in things as they are, not in things as they might or should be. But, to return to the novelist's argument about clothes, the present fashion for low necks and slit skirts has nothing to do with sex necessarily. Its origin is in vanity--which may or may not have a bearing upon sex. And of course it usually hasn't; for vanity is an attribute of small natures, and sex is an attribute of great ones.