"You ... you never thought you used enough to hurt?"
"No. I'm sure I never used enough to hurt my body. I never thought I used enough to hurt anything about me ... until last night."
"What made you change your mind?"
She was half impelled to pass the question off, then said resolutely:
"A man came here to talk to me, one of my cowpunchers. I made a cocktail. He threw it away."
"Well, that was a devil of a thing to do. Did you fire him, as he deserved?"
"No,"—deliberately, tracing a line on a rug with her toe and watching it critically—"I took his advice. You see, the men out here expect things from women that no one has ever expected from me before."
He sneered: "Turned Puritan, Jane? A sweet thing to face, trying to be other than yourself, confining yourself to the morals of the crowd."
"Not just that, Dick. There's a sweetness about it, yes. As for morals: we didn't discuss them at all....
"This man said that he supposed some people thought it was smart to drink. That hit me rather on the head. We were, the smartest people in New York, weren't we?"