I don't think I could live like this."
The painted doll that the child fancied! the paint washed off and the
golden hair all turned to drab? Could one be sure of "getting used to
it," of "liking it better?" And the poor bewildered doll itself! How
could one expect to make of it a statue: "The Woman of the People." One
could only bruise it.
It ended in Joan's promising to introduce her to discreet theatrical
friends who would tell her of cosmetics less injurious to the skin, and
advise her generally in the ancient and proper art of "making up."
It was not the end she had looked for. Joan sighed as she closed her
door behind her. What was the meaning of it? On the one hand that
unimpeachable law, the greatest happiness of the greatest number; the
sacred cause of Democracy; the moral Uplift of the people; Sanity,
Wisdom, Truth, the higher Justice; all the forces on which she was
relying for the regeneration of the world--all arrayed in stern demand
that the flabby, useless Mrs. Phillips should be sacrificed for the
general good. Only one voice had pleaded for foolish, helpless Mrs.
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