“What did she say?”
“A great many things—most of them quite unfit for publication. But the latest and simplest gospel, according to Burton, appears to be, ‘Down with the proprietary view of marriage.’”
Cecily leaned back against her cushions. “Ah!” she said.
“Yes,” continued Mrs. Summers, meditatively, “there should be room in life for frank, free comradeship—camaraderie was, I think, the word—between husbands and ladies who are living the Simple Life. Room for beautiful, breezy, ennobling friendships, untrammelled by vulgar jealousy on the part of the wife.”
“I see,” returned Cecily. “And is the wife to have beautiful, breezy friendships too?”
“Oh, yes! Liberty, Fraternity (presumably), and Equality, of course.”
Cecily was silent a moment. “And you don’t believe in that kind of thing?” she asked.
Mrs. Summers shrugged her shoulders.
“My dear, I haven’t lived the Simple Life,” she returned, dryly.
“Some more tea?” Cecily suggested. “Well, a complicated biscuit, then? I’m afraid I haven’t any plasmon in the house. I wonder now whether a woman like Philippa Burton is more of a hypocrite or a self-deceiver?” she added, thoughtfully, after a few moments.