Once or twice during the preparation of the meal Doris swore in her
soft girlish voice, which made the contrast peculiarly shocking; and
finally Athalie said bluntly: "If I didn't know you were straight I
wouldn't think so from the way you behave."
Doris turned on her a flushed and angry face: "Will you kindly stop
knocking me?"
"I'm not. I'm only saying that your talk is loose. And so it is."
"What's the difference as long as I'm not on the loose myself?"
"The difference is that men will think you are; that's all."
"Men mistake any girl who works for a living."
"Then see that the mistake is their fault not yours. I don't
understand why a girl can't keep her self-respect even if she's a
stenographer, as I am, or works in a shop as Catharine does, or in the
theatre as you do. And if a girl talks loosely, she'll think loosely,
sooner or later."
"Hurry up that supper!" called Catharine. "I'm going to a show with
Genevieve, and I want time to dress."
Athalie, scrambling the eggs, which same eggs would endure no other
mode of preparation, leaned over sideways and kissed Doris on her
lovely neck.
"Darling," she said, "I'm not trying to be disagreeable; I only want
us all to keep up."
"I know it, ducky. I guess you're right. I'll cut out that rough stuff
if you like."
Athalie said: "It's only too easy to let down when you're thrown with
careless and uneducated people as we are. I have to struggle against
it all the while. For, somehow I seem to know that a girl who keeps
up her grammar keeps up her self-respect, too. If you slouch mentally
you slouch physically. And then it's not so difficult to slouch
morally."
Doris laughed: "You funny thing! You certainly have educated yourself
a lot since school,--you use such dandy English."
"I read good English."
"I know you do. I can't. If somebody would only write a rattling story
in good English!--but I've got to have the story first of all or I
can't read it. All those branch-library books you lug in are too slow
for me. If it wasn't for hearing you talk every day I'd be talking
like the rest of the chorus at the Egyptian Garden;--'Sa-ay, ain't you
done with my make-up box? Yaas, you did swipe it! I seen you. Who's
a liar? All right, if you want to mix it--'"