There was something appalling to her, too, in what has been somewhere called "the infinite littleness of social life." It seemed to have a strangely flattening effect upon its devotees--promoting some, demoting others, all to the same unstimulating level, while the wheels within wheels shifted and reformed kaleidoscopically. These wheels within these wheels puzzled Joan. "Climbers," such as her step-mother, she was able to understand and even to sympathize with. It seemed to her quite natural and thoroughly American for water to seek a higher level than its own. That was merely progress, merely self-respect made visible. To "get on" appeared a quite legitimate ambition; but to "get in"--that was another matter. Snobbery, that word of many interpretations, meant to Joan the extreme form of self-confessed vulgarity. "If it were friends they were after, I could understand," she said to Emily Carmichael. "Everybody wants friends--we're all lonely. But you have got to select your real friends one at a time, not in assorted clumps, like bananas. And one's real friends so rarely happen to be friends with each other--you've noticed that? Why this passion for organizing ourselves into group-formation, anyway?" "For purposes of offense and defense," explained Emily. "So that we may leave the Mrs. Websters out, and let the Joan Darcys in, of course." They had been discussing Joan's near neighbor, a well-bred, sweet-mannered, adaptable young woman who had recently laid siege to the town, and with whom Joan was forming one of those propinquity friendships which are destined not to last. None of Mrs. Webster's friendships appeared to last. She had used acquaintance after acquaintance gracefully as a stepping-stone to higher things, leaving, however, not a single enemy behind her. It was the fashion in the various circles through which she had passed to say how charming Mrs. Webster was, even after she seemed done with them. And now, through Joan, she was laying tactful but so far unsuccessful siege to the Jabberwocks; cleverness (in moderation) having become quite the smart thing nowadays. "It is not our massive intellects which attract her, however," commented Emily. "It is--well, modesty forbids me to say just what it is. The sign _verboten_ is to some natures as a red rag to a bull. They simply must have it to play with." "Well, but why should anybody be _verboten_ to Kathy Webster?" defended Joan. "She's charming, and perfectly intelligent, and unmistakably a lady--which is more than one can say with confidence of some of our most indefatigable social leaders. Look at Mrs. Gunther, for instance!--didn't you tell me her father used to deliver meat at your door out of his own cart?" "Excellent meat it was, too. Father says we have never had a decent butcher since." "And lo, what house more exclusive than theirs?"