"The condition of those about her--the future. Patsy McCullon doesn't know there is a suffering woman or child in Sabinsport. She has never crossed the threshold of a factory or entered a mine." "She's no exception," said Dick. "There are not a half dozen of the women in Sabinsport, even those whose entire income comes from factory and mine, that know anything of the life of the men and women who do the work. You can't blame Patsy for what is true of nearly all American well-to-do women. Of course it is shocking. But Patsy at least has the excuse that she gets no dividends from these institutions and so has no direct responsibility." "I'll give her credit for knowing what she wants," said Ralph, dryly. "And playing a clean game, Ralph." "Yes, I suppose so, but I hate a calculating woman." Dick eyed him sharply. He had a suspicion sometimes that Ralph's irritation over Patsy was partly growing fondness and partly self-protection. He feared her closing in on him, and feared he would be helpless if she did. "She'll have to work harder than she ever did before, but if I don't mistake, she's beginning. I don't believe she knows it, though," Dick said to himself. Patsy sailed in June. He and Ralph had had several joyous notes from her, and the day after the declaration of war on Serbia a long letter announcing a sudden change of the itinerary she and Dick had arranged with such pains. "I have run into a college mate here who with her husband and brother are just starting for a leisurely motor trip, half pleasure, half business. Mr. Laurence and his brother have connections over here, and it is to look into them that they go the route they do. Of course, Dick, it shatters all those wonderful Baedeker constellations we worked out for this part of the world, but I shall see the true French country and the little towns and I'll learn how the people live and I'll have no end of knowledge about 'conditions' to give Ralph when I get back." "Much she'll see there if she can't see anything here," growled Ralph. "Who is this Laurence anyway?" "We leave Paris around the 20th for Dijon. Mr. Laurence's firm makes all sorts of things for farmers. They have offices in Paris and Brussels and Berlin--all the big cities, and agents in many of the larger towns. I suppose he takes these trips to see what the country people need and how well the agents are persuading them they need it. Martha says it's no end of fun to go with him. We'll spend a day in Dijon--time enough to see the old houses and the pastels in the museum. We're going from there to a place called Beaune--never heard of it before, but Henry--Mr. Laurence's brother--he knows everything about this country--says it has the most perfect fifteenth century hospital in Europe. Then along the Meuse into Belgium. We ought to be in Brussels by the first of August."