partner suggested that life would be broader and better for women
after the war, because they would have so much more important a
part to do than before in the useful work of the world. "Ah, yes,"
she said, "perhaps so. But with the men all gone what shall we do
when we want to be petted?" She made two sweet unaccented syllables
of petted in her ingenue French accent and added: "For you know
women were made to be pet-ted." There was a bewildered second under
the machine gun fire of the eyes when her companion considered
seriously her theory. He had never cherished such a theory before.
But he was seeing a new world, and this seemed to be one of the
pleasant new things in it--this theory of the woman requiring to
be pet-ted!

Then the French Colonel hove in sight and she said: "Oh, yes--come
on, Col-o-nel"--making three unaccented syllables of the word--"and
we shall have une femme sandweech." She gave the Colonel her arm.
The miserable Kansan had not thought to take it, being busy with
the Beacon Building or the water hazard at the Emporia Country
Club, and then, as the Col-o-nel took her arm she lifted the Eyes
to the stupid clod of a Kansan and switched on all the joyous
incandescence of her lamps as she said, addressing the Frenchman
but gazing sweetly at the American, "Col-o-nel, will you please
carry my books?" They must have weighed six or eight ounces! And
she shifted them to the Col-o-nel as though they weighed a ton!

So the Kansan walked wearily to the smoking room to find his mate.
They two then and there discussed the woman proposition in detail
and drew up strong resolutions of respect for the Wichita and Emporia
type, the American type that carries its own books and burdens and
does not require of its men a silly and superficial chivalry and