And at last the courage came. "I think it is wrong," she exclaimed.
"Girls ought not to be kept so ignorant! They ought to know what
such things mean. Why, I didn't even know what marriage meant!"
"Can that be true?" I asked.
"All my life I had thought of marriage, in a way; I had been trained
to think of it with every eligible man I met--but to me it meant a
home, a place of my own to entertain people in. I pictured myself
going driving with my husband, giving dinner-parties to his friends.
I knew I'd have to let him kiss me, but beyond that--I had a vague
idea of something, but I didn't think. I had been deliberately
trained not to let myself think--to run away from every image that
came to me. And I went on dreaming of what I'd wear, and how I'd
greet my husband when he came home in the evening."
"Didn't you think about children?"
"Yes--but I thought of the CHILDREN. I thought what they'd look
like, and how they'd talk, and how I'd love them. I don't know if
many young girls shut their minds up like that."
She was speaking with agitation, and I was gazing into her eyes,
reading more than she knew I was reading. I was nearer to solving
the problem that had been baffling me.
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