She was an Age and an
Attitude, but she was more than that; she had grown old without
growing dull or losing touch with youth--her face had the delicate
strength of a fine cameo and her mild and youthful heart preserved
an innocent zest for adventure.
Wide travel, social leadership, the world of art and books, a dozen
charities, an existence rich with diverse experience--all these
she had enjoyed energetically and to the full--but she felt, with
ingenious vanity, that there were still sides to her character which
even these had not brought to light. As a little girl she had
hesitated between wishing to be a locomotive engineer or a famous
bandit--and when she had found, at seven, that the accident of sex
would probably debar her from either occupation, she had resolved
fiercely that some time before she died she would show the world in
general and the Van Gorder clan in particular that a woman was quite
as capable of dangerous exploits as a man. So far her life, while
exciting enough at moments, had never actually been dangerous and
time was slipping away without giving her an opportunity to prove
her hardiness of heart. Whenever she thought of this the fact
annoyed her extremely--and she thought of it now.
She threw down the morning paper disgustedly. Here she was at 65
--rich, safe, settled for the summer in a delightful country place
with a good cook, excellent servants, beautiful gardens and grounds
--everything as respectable and comfortable as--as a limousine!
And out in the world people were murdering and robbing each other,
floating over Niagara Falls in barrels, rescuing children from
burning houses, taming tigers, going to Africa to hunt gorillas,
doing all sorts of exciting things! She could not float over Niagara
Falls in a barrel; Lizzie Allen, her faithful old maid, would never
let her! She could not go to Africa to hunt gorillas; Sally Ogden,
her sister, would never let her hear the last of it.
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