I've only got a few more left--I'm already thirty-one.

And my type ages fast in this town, if you do the things you're expected to do.

But you--oh, Ethel, I want you to marry well! Not a millionaire--that's rather hard, and besides he'd probably be too fat--but the kind who will be a millionaire, who has it written all over his face and makes you feel it in his voice! Don't sell yourself too cheap, my dear! Don't go running about with men who'll keep you poor for the rest of your days.

They talk so well--some of them do; and it sounds so fine--ideas and books and pictures and--I knew one who was an architect.

And it's all very well for later on, but what you've got to do right at the start--while you have the looks and youth--is to find the man who can give you a house where all those other people will be tumbling to get in--because you'll have the money--you'll be able to entertain--and give them what they really want--in spite of all their talking." Once more, with a weary sigh, she dropped the religious intensity, and smiled as she wistfully added: "That's where some man can put you.