aturalness:

"Well--it certainly isn't pretty--Hen! But I don't suppose factories
usually are. You know, I--haven't happened to be down here for a good
many years...."

And then, catching the driver's eye, she nodded sharply to him to go on.
In the cross-sweep of larger troubles, dismissed bunchers were naturally
forgotten. The car started with a little jump.

"Why, aren't you going to _stop_?"

It was Hen Cooney who thus sounded the note of rather indignant
surprise, not the man from the slums, who, understanding, stood tall and
silent, lifting his old derby....

Cally, looking straight ahead, replied: "I can't stop now."

That left the whole matter indeterminate; nobody was committed to
anything, one way or another. Hen Cooney earned Cally's undying
resentment (at least for the remainder of the drive) by crying over her
shoulder as the car rolled away:

"Of course Uncle Thornton'll give her her place back! Don't you worry,
V.V.!..."

* * * * *

That night the subject of the Works was touched upon again, in the
course of an extended talk between Carlisle and her friend Mattie Allen,
a talk ranging intimately over various aspects of life and living. It
took place in Carlisle's pretty bedroom, toward two o'clock A.M. In the
earlier evening the girls had brilliantly attended the Thursday German
(which was always held on Mondays), and now Mattie was spending the
night: a ceremony which she dearly loved, especially the eleven o'clock
breakfast in bed. They routed all hands out at eight at the Allens,
regardless.

The two girls, Carlisle and Mattie, were the dearest friends in the
world, being perfect natural foils, each made to appear at her best by
the presence of the other. Many other bonds they had also, as the fact
that, while each was charming and most attractive to men, they very
rarely attracted the same men, thus obviating hostile jealousies.
Speaking roughly, tall, athletic, handsome, normal young men loved
Carlisle; while Mattie, though rarely appealing to these demigods, made
instant killings with "clever" men, literary fellows, teachers of Greek,
and promising young entomologists. Doubtless the comparatively
favorable impression Mattie had made on Mr. Canning at the Beirne
reception was due to the fact that he, though a demigod, had thought, at
times, of writing a book....

"Mats," said Carlisle, apropos of nothing whatever, "have you ever heard
people criticizing th