Scoris would wonder sometimes if Paul really did care for her. He would seem so interested in her, take such pains to bring his family and hers together and his eyes had often spoken more than words, yet he was silent. She would like to have known. “But after all,” she said to her self, “we are not in a position to marry if he did care for me.”
Two years passed and she had so many cares to occupy her mind that she was satisfied to let things remain as they were. She had secured a number of shares in the society, saying to herself, “marriage is not the only aim in life, and I will devote myself to art. I am weary of seeing my creations used for advertisements—of working for a firm that looks upon me as a part of its machinery. If our society was older advertisements wouldn’t be needed. What will you do then?” she asks herself. “Why, why,” she hesitates, then thinks again, “what will I do?” The answer didn’t come right away. She returned to it many times. Once she thought, “I will have enough saved to keep me before then. I can live in the Colony where the necessities of life are of more consequence to all than luxuries, and I can do without many things I like. Why, I do now. First my drawings and paintings are used to attract trade. The firm gets the credit for them, and about ten times more than I receive for them. Do I like that? It has greater expenses I am aware, but not ten times the amount. I work six days out of the week from 8 a. m. to 5 p. m., with about two weeks’ holidays once a year, and then I have to lose my time. If my eyesight fails in middle life, the age limit will pounce upon me with the lash of necessity. I certainly do not like the prospect. Marry the millionaire that Libra has taken so much trouble to persuade you to.
“Marry? No, if I ever marry, it will be for love and companionship. He is a nice fellow, his money would help to carry out the very things I am working for! I like him and he is fond of me. If I had never seen Paul I would have learned to love him. He and others who are wealthy have proved to me that human nature is the same whether rich or poor. Both kinds of people can be selfish and they average the same in generosity, both he and Libra’s husband are generous. Lear is a rich man and Libra is happy with him, why couldn’t I? Because,” she answers the one-sided debate, “we wouldn’t be companionable and because he knows nothing about the poverty in our midst. He would expect me to out-rival other women and display his wealth while I would know that little children were hungry and the aged were cold and homeless. Every time I took up the daily newspaper and saw the accounts of suicides and all the rest of the misery caused by money being drawn into the hands of the few, I would have to say to myself ‘coward!’ No, I will not marry him. I never encouraged him. He would never have asked me but for Libra. I can hear him say it yet, in answer to an argument brought up about the working classes, ‘No one can reach them all, so what is the use of our trying to do an impossible thing?’ ‘No one person can change any condition in which all the people are involved, but if each one does his or her share, individually, it can be done,’ I told him, ‘and I will not desert the cause.’”
Scoris had been alone all evening, and as she loosened her hair and let it fall around her shoulders, she arrived at this mental conclusion; then she heard Helen unlock the front door and come in to their parlor.
“I thought you had gone to bed, you were so quiet,” Helen said.
“Did you enjoy the play?” Scoris asked, as she fastened her loose gown and slipped on her soft shoes.
“Very much,” Helen answered. “Libra and Lear would have come in if they had known you were up.”
“I am glad they did not,” Scoris said. “You know what Libra is after, and I have made up my mind that I will never marry.”
Scoris had been alone all evening and as she loosened her hair and let it fall around her shoulders she arrived at this mental conclusion.