"My own case," she said, "is typical. At least I suppose so! I speak for
myself; and there are others in the house, at the present moment, who
profess to feel as I do, and suffer--as I have done. In this country, we
are taught that wealth is power. We, or rather our husbands, acquire or
inherit it; afterwards we set ourselves to test the truth of that little
maxim. We begin at home. In about three years, more or less, we reach our
limitations. Then it begins to dawn upon us that, whatever else America
is good for, it's no place for a woman with ambitions. We're on the top
too soon, and when we're there it doesn't amount to anything."
"Which accounts," I remarked, "for the invasion of Europe!"
Mrs. Van Reinberg leaned her fair, little head upon her white
be-ringed fingers, and looked steadily at me. I had never for a moment
under-estimated her, but she had probably never so much impressed me.
There was something Napoleonic about this slow unfolding of her carefully
thought-out plans.
"Naturally," she answered. "What, however, so few of us are able to
realize is our utter and miserable failure in what you are pleased to
call that invasion.
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