Virginia said: “I have learnt so many, many things since I left school last year.” “Of course,” they answered, “at art school.” “No,” she said, “I don’t mean that. I learn more out of school than in it.” “The independent woman,” I said, “who has some work and aim, who can support herself if need be, and who does some definite work in life, whether or not she supports herself, will not stagnate when she marries, because she has been growing all the time. When her children grow up, she will grow with them, and learn and change and think all her life.” “Must she do some definite thing?” asked Henry skeptically. Florence said: “I know you think, Henry, that she should be good and help around the house.” “I think,” I said, “that she must have a definite thing to do in life, though not necessarily to support herself by money-making. She may study, if she should wish to prepare for more difficult work, or she may have a household of people to care for, and even other people’s children to bring up, just as a married woman might.” Good manners and politeness next engaged our attention. Ruth is a great stickler for manners, especially in boys, and not a very good judge of character, so she has to make much of evident, superficial characteristics. Marian, on the other hand, is an excellent judge of character. Marian asked me whether I thought manners important, and what I thought politeness meant. I said good manners were the natural expression of kindness, but that one often met good people who were bores, nevertheless, simply out of awkwardness; that many young boys were so, and Ruth ought to teach them better. We quoted some examples of false good manners, good simply for effect, which usually were self-exposed at last. I said: “That people with kind manners are thought the best-bred and finest, is but another sign that the world of men goes in ‘our’ direction.” “Yes,” said Marian, “I see how you mean.” Ruth granted she cared too much for good manners, since they did not always mean what they professed to mean. To Florence they seemed unimportant, in others, as an index of character. Florence said: “I act differently with each person, because I believe a different way will please each person.” “Yes,” I answered, “we all do it unconsciously; and that is why we _are_ as many people as we _know_.” She went on: “When I am with people who like to be serious, I talk seriously; and when I am with people who like to fool, why, then I am jolly and silly.” “But how about your own taste and personality?” I asked. “Does that count?” “When I am with some very proper people,” said Florence, “I love to shock them.” “Yes,” I answered, “it is a temptation. But, please, Florence, make the people do what you choose sometimes. You remember that you want to be like a picture, and not only like a looking-glass.” “I like to be the controlling person,” said Virginia, “and make people do what I choose.”