She might have fawned upon him, or thrown herself unblushingly at his head, or used a frigid hauteur to emphasize the point that her station in life was better than appearances indicated. The girls he knew invariably pursued one of these courses. But Janet didn’t. Her whole bearing permeated the atmosphere with a suggestion that Claude was a very wonderful being, dashing, handsome, divine. A most agreeable suggestion! But, since it takes a goddess to detect a god, it was clear that she was quite a wonderful being, too. And what is a matter of divinity among the gods on Olympus. It is like a title among peers of the realm. It was her simple, natural, unaffected behavior, in short, that kept his fancy intrigued. Without knowing it, his suspicion of women was almost completely disarmed. Cornelia’s parting words to Janet had given him some concern. "You’re not thinking of going to live with Cornelia?" he said. "I may soon be glad of the chance." "Why?" "Because my mother threatens to put me out of her house." "But what for?" he said, looking at her in amazement. "I don’t look like an incorrigible, do I?" she said smiling. "But my mother thinks me one for associating with people like you." "With people like me?" "Well, like you and the other model tenementers." "But I’m _not_ like them," he said, half amused, half annoyed. "No? Do you know what I’ve noticed? All the people in the model tenements say they are ’not like them.’ Cornelia says so, Robert says so, and now you say so. Each one thinks _he_ is different, unique." "Well, I’m sure that _you_ are," he said, rather seriously. He added, lightly. "That’s why it would be fatal if you went to live there. Do try to patch it up with your mother, Janet, and give up this plan of Cornelia’s." "Patching it up with my mother means complete submission. Her motto is, ’bend or break.’ And I’ve bent long enough." She tried briefly to give him an idea of her mother’s domestic tyranny and of her own rebellion against it. "You don’t know what it is to live in my mother’s house," she said. "I’ve heard what it is to live in Cornelia’s house," he retorted. "She casts a spell over young girls before they know her well. But she is selfish and moody. Her friendships always end in violent quarrels. She is now on the verge of a break with Mazie Ross." "She may have very good grounds for the break." "Oh, she’s never at a loss for grounds. That isn’t the point." "What _is_ the point?" "The atmosphere of the Lorillard tenements. It isn’t made for you to breathe in. Have you any idea what the people there are like? Gangsters, anarchists and fake artists or writers, with a very small sprinkling of well-meaning idealists, most of whom are cracked on social questions. The men are all out of business, the women all out of marriage. On the loose, every one of them, either in their actions, or in their beliefs."