"On the contrary, they think of women in two ways," contended Lydia in her drawling Southern tongue. "To a man, all womankind is divided into two groups: the woman who stands for his home, and all the others—the women who stand for his pleasure. The one woman is a necessity; all the others a luxury. Every man gets the first at any cost, and then bids for one or more of the second, if he has the price." "Don’t be bizarre and crude, Lydia," said Cornelia, not relishing this analysis in Janet’s presence. "Crude?" said Lydia, repelling the charge as melodramatically as it was made. "It is not I who am crude. It is man. It is man who divides our whole sex crassly into these two groups. It is man who sees in every woman either a housekeeper or a wanton. It is man who fixes a trade price for affairs of the heart and rates marriages by their market value. Call _this_ crude, if you like! Or call it an incurable blindness to the differing blend of vital forces that makes each woman unique. In this respect, how unlike men are to us, who see in every man a new, mystic union of protector, lover and father of our children!" "The new trinity!" chanted Cornelia, with a significant laugh. "But I’m sure, dear Lydia, that not every woman has _your_ gift for discovering this mystic trinity in so many unique specimens of the other sex." "Dear Cornelia, you flatter me. My only advantage over other women lies in the prudence which caused me to get a husband before I set out to make the discoveries you allude to." "Don’t let us talk about marriage as it exists today," said Cornelia, parrying the blow as best she could. "Marriage is so banal." "Yes, and so convenient," drawled Lydia, who reluctantly supported her husband in idleness and luxury. "Also, so expensive. Husbands now come dearer than ever before in the history of family life, while lovers never were cheaper." "Lydia is joking," said Janet, sending her clear, mollifying voice into the breach. "No, I’m not joking," said Lydia, with the utmost gravity. She lit a cigarette, adding as she did so: "I’m making hay while the sun shines." "Does your husband agree with you on this point?" asked Janet, curiously. "My dear, he’s used to me. He takes my word for everything. Also my money. But I’m frank to say that I don’t hold with Cornelia’s notions about free love. They’re too fantastic and impractical. I hold with the French system: Marry first and experiment afterwards. It’s not logical, Janet, but it works well. If you experiment first, you are sure to be done out of marriage, and you may even be done out of love." "Really, Lydia," said Cornelia, now thoroughly incensed. "You must know that Janet believes, as I do, that love is a surrender, not a sale. She isn’t offering her affections to the highest bidder." Janet, intervening, remarked that this was true; but, as she found Lydia’s views very interesting, she begged Cornelia to let their visitor have her say.