"Your Roger doesn't like women, does he?"
"No. He's very wise, Roger is. But sometimes I think he's prejudiced. I'd like you to know Roger, I really would."
She gazed straight before her for a moment deliberating and then:
"I hope you don't mind if I say so, but I think your Roger must be a good deal of a fossil."
"A fossil. Now see here, Una—I can't have you talking about Roger like that."
"He is. I'm sure of it. All theorists are."
"He's not. He's the broadest fellow you ever knew."
"Nobody's broad who ignores the existence of woman," she returned hotly. "It's sinful—that sort of philosophy. It's against nature. We're here—millions of us, working as hard as men do, earning our own way in the world, active, live intelligences, writing books, nursing in hospitals, cleaning the plague-spots out of the cities, influencing in a thousand ways the uplift of that coarser brute man and besides all this practicing a thousand acts of self-abnegation in the home. Keeping man's house, cooking his food, bearing his ch—"
She stopped abruptly and bit her lip.
"Bearing his—what?" asked Jerry.