"But, while it won't be at all what you'd regard as a model life—or even perhaps useful—it'll be very different—very much better—than it would have been, if I hadn't met you—Victor Dorn."
"Oh, I've done nothing," said he. "All I try to do is to encourage my fellow beings to be themselves. So—live your own life—the life you can live best—just as you wear the clothes that fit and become you.... And now—about the street car question. What do you want of me?"
"Tell me what to say to father."
He shook his head. "Can't do it," said he. "There's a good place for you to make a beginning. Put on an old dress and go down town and get acquainted with the family life of the street-car men. Talk to their wives and their children. Look into the whole business yourself."
"But I'm not—not competent to judge," objected she.
"Well, make yourself competent," advised he.
"I might get Miss Gordon to go with me," suggested she.
"You'll learn more thoroughly if you go alone," declared he.
She hesitated—ventured with a winning smile: "You won't go with me—just to get me started right?"
"No," said he. "You've got to learn for yourself—or not at all. If I go with you, you'll get my point of view, and it will take you so much the longer to get your own."