"But you're so different from everybody else," said her aunt.
"But I don't want to be different. I want to just be a woman—or a girl."
Some kindly intuition prompted Susan to change the subject. "Mr. Rath and I were talking about girls just now; we both thought what a pity it is that there are so few in these days."
"I guess there are just as many girls as ever, only they aren't so conspicuous," Jane said, laughing at Lorenzo.
"I think they're more conspicuous," said Lorenzo, "only they're the wrong kind."
"I liked the old kind," said Susan, "the kind that stayed at home and wasn't wild to get away and be going into business."
Jane laughed again. "You ought not to blame the girls, Auntie. Lots of them feel dreadfully over leaving home. But they have to go out and work. I had to, I know. It's some kind of big world-change that's pushing us all on into different places."
"I wasn't thinking of girls who do something nice and quiet like you. I was thinking of the others."
"They have to go, too," said Jane. "There's a fearful pressure that we don't understand behind it all. A restlessness and discontent that no one can alter."
"Yes, that's true," said Lorenzo; "I never thought of it, but I can see that it is so now that you've put it into my head."