That would mean gossip."
"You are above gossip and I prefer the men to the books. You'll ruin
your pretty eyes, and you had the makings of a fine bluestocking when
I rescued you. A successful woman--with her husband and with Society--
has only sparkling shallows in her pretty little head. Now, I must
run. I really shouldn't have come all the way up here for lunch."
Madeleine wandered aimlessly to the window and looked down at the
scurrying throngs on Montgomery Street. There were few women. The men
bent against the wind, clutching at their hats, or chasing them along
the uneven wooden sidewalks, tripping perhaps on a loose board. There
were tiny whirlwinds of dust in the unpaved streets. The bustling
little city that Madeleine had thought so picturesque in its novelty
suddenly lost its glamour. It looked as if parts of it had been flung
together in a night between solid blocks imported from the older
communities; so furious was the desire to achieve immediate wealth
there were only three or four buildings of architectural beauty in
the city. The shop windows on Montgomery Street were attractive with
the wares of Paris, but Madeleine coveted nothing in San Francisco.
She thought of Boston, New York, Washington, Europe, and for a
moment nostalgia overwhelmed her.
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