“O, then, it is a charitable organization?” I exclaimed, much relieved.
“It was,” replied Severnius. “It was in active operation for a hundred or so years. Finally, when there was no more need of it, the State having undertaken the care of its poor, it passed into a sentiment, such as you have seen to-day.”
“A very costly and elaborate sentiment,” I retorted.
“Yes, and it is growing more so, all the time,” said he. “I sometimes wonder where it is going to stop! For those who, like Elodia, have plenty of money, it does not matter; but some of the women we saw in those costly robes and ornaments can ill afford them,—they mean less of comfort in their homes and less of culture to their children.”
“I should think their husbands would not allow such a waste of money,” I said, forgetting the social economy of Mars.
“It does not cost any more than membership in the orders to which the husbands themselves belong,” returned he. “They argue, of course, that they need the recreation, and also that membership in such hightoned clubs gives them and their children a better standing and greater influence in society.”
Severnius did not forget his usual corollary,—the question with which he topped out every explanation he made about his country and people.
“Have you nothing of the sort on the Earth?” he asked.
“Among the women?—we have not,” I answered.
“I did not specify,” he said.