“Oh, well, then it’s because the men are lazy or sick. No decent, self-respecting man would allow it.”
“Supposing a woman can not marry. She can’t propose to a man. What can she do in that case—starve? No, Dr. Bigelow, you can’t even argue. Every woman should have in her hand, say, a weapon or trade with which to take care of herself. Then when the time comes she’s ready to start in the battle of life, and not sit around helpless while others do for her, or become dependent upon charity, or worse. The day of Elsie Dinsmores has gone. In her place we have strong, capable, broad-minded women. Seldom do we hear of a woman fainting today, yet look back sixty years and recall the Lydia Languish females with long ringlets and wasp waists, who invariably carried smelling salts. I’m proud to belong to the women of today—healthy, strong, athletic, and brave—women who do and are not ashamed of it. Look at Aunt Susan. There’s a woman who is an example. I hope I may amount to as much as she before I die.”
“Ethel, I fear you are strong-minded,” laughed Harvey.
“Don’t fear, but know it. I try to be strong in mind and body. I believe in a woman getting all that’s coming to her and working for that end.”
Harvey laughed.
“Well, I shan’t argue with you.”
“Because you agree with me, and you know it,” said Ethel quietly. “You have made yourself amount to something. Look where you were three years ago. What were your views of life then? A rich marriage. Behold the change! Now you are a man.”
“Thanks,” said Harvey, rising and making a low bow.