Is that it?"
"Why--no--I--to tell the truth I was only--"
"Don't embarrass yourself. I just want to tell you that before I'd
accept your auto ride I'd open a little fancy art goods and needlework
store in Menominee, Michigan, and get out the newest things in
Hardanger work and Egyptian embroidery. And that's my notion of zero
in occupation. Besides, no plain, everyday workingwoman could enjoy
herself in your car because her conscience wouldn't let her. She'd be
thinking all the time how she was depriving some poor, hard-working
chorus girl of her legitimate pastime, and that would spoil
everything. The elevator man told me that you had a new motor car, but
the news didn't interest me half as much as that of his having new
twin girls. Anything with five thousand dollars can have a sixty-power
machine, but only an elevator man on eight dollars a week can afford
the luxury of twins."
"My dear Mrs. McChesney--"
"Don't," said Emma McChesney sharply. "I couldn't stand much more. I
joke, you know, when other women cry.
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