Hertha made no response, and they walked on for a time in silence.
"It's like this," Ellen continued. "You're a generation ahead of these cabins, and you don't enjoy the people socially who live in them. It isn't snobbish to say this; it's just true. You haven't a single friend here. I can't think what it would mean if you went away. It would be like losing the color out of the sky; everything would be dull gray. But if you ought to go, you ought, and I should help you."
"Haven't you made unhappiness enough, Ellen, with your plans, making Tom go, but you must get rid of me too?"
"That isn't fair."
"That's what it seems like."
"Let's talk reasonably. Of course it isn't the same with you as with Tom; you're not a child."
"I'm glad you realize that."
"Why, Hertha, you're almost cross. Please let me explain what I mean. I'm glad you like it here, but we all have to look ahead, and I can't look ahead and see you a servant in a white man's home."
"Why not?"
"You're too refined, too delicate. You ought to enter the front door, and if you can't enter there, isn't it better not to enter at all?"