be Queen?" Reinhard suggested.

"Oh," Milly sighed, "I want what every woman wants--just to be loved."

She implied that with the perfect love, all these minor difficulties
would adjust themselves easily. But the woman without love must fight
for her "rights," whatever they were.

"Oh, of course," the novelist murmured sympathetically. In all his
varied experience with the sex he had found few women who would admit
that they were properly loved.

* * * * *

Milly's daily programme at this time will be illuminating, because it
was much like the lives of many thousands of young married women, in our
transition period. As there was no complicated house and only one child
to be looked after, the mere housekeeping duties were not burdensome,
especially as Milly never thought of going to market or store for
anything, merely telephoned for what the cook said they must have, or
left it to the servant altogether. She woke late, read the newspaper and
her mail over her coffee, played with Virgie and told her charming
stories; then, by ten o'clock, dressed, and her housekeeping arranged
for, she was ready to set forth. Usually she had some sort of shopping
that took her down town until luncheon, and more often than not lunched
out with a friend.

Occasionally on a fine day when she had nothing better to do, she took
Virginia into the Park for an hour after luncheon. Usually, however, the
child's promenade was left to Louise. Her afternoons were varied and
crowded. Sometimes she went to lectures or to see pictures, because this
was part of that "culture" essential for the modern woman. Old friends
from Chicago had to be called upon or taken to tea and entertained, and
there was the ever enlarging circle of new friends, chiefly women, who
made constant demands on her time. She finished her day, breathlessly,
just in time to dress for dinner. They went out more and more, because
people liked them, and when they stayed at home, they had people in
"quite informally" and talked until late hours. On the rare occasions
when they were alone Milly curled up on the divan before the fire and
dozed until she went to bed,--"dead tired."

There was scarcely a single productive moment in these busy days. Yet
Milly would have resented the accusation that she was an idle woman in
any sense. She had the feeling of being pressed, of striving to overtake
her engagements, which gave a pleasant touch of excitement t