"Didn't they use to buzz?" I asked Owen.
"Of course; just as the first motor boats thumped and banged abominably. We will not stand for unnecessary noise, as we used to."
"How do you stop it? More interference with the individual rights?"
"More recognition of public rights. A bad noise is a nuisance, like a bad smell. We didn't used to mind it much—but the women did. You see, what women like has to be considered now."
"It always was considered!" I broke in with some heat. "The women of America were the most spoiled, pampered lot on earth; men gave up to them in all ways."
"At home, perhaps, but not in public. The city and state weren't run to suit them at all."
"Why should they be? Women belong at home. If they push into a man's world they ought to take the consequences."
Owen stretched his long legs and looked up at the soft, brilliant blue above us.
"Why do you call the world 'man's?" he asked.
"It was man's; it ought to be. Woman's place is in the home. I suppose I sound like ancient history to you?" and I laughed a little shamefacedly.