of constraint and unrest, which produces organic ravages for which no luxury can compensate.  The general ill-health of girls of the better classes, and the equally general post-matrimonial breakdown, are probably due largely to the fact that the nervous organization demands more normal stimulations and reactions than are supplied.  The American woman of the better classes has superior rights and no duties, and yet she is worrying herself to death—­not over specific troubles, but because she has lost her connection with reality.  Many women, more intelligent and energetic than their husbands and brothers, have no more serious occupations than to play the house-cat, with or without ornament.  It is a wonder that more of them do not lose their minds; and that more of them do not break with the system entirely is due solely to the inhibitive effects of early habit and suggestion.

As long as woman is comfortably cared for by the men of her group or by marriage, she is not likely to do anything rash, especially if the moral standards in her family and community are severe.  But an unattached woman has a tendency to become an adventuress—­not so much on economic as on psychological grounds.  Life is rarely so hard that a young woman cannot earn her bread; but she cannot always live and have the stimulations she craves.  As long, however, as she remains with her people and is known to the whole community, she realizes that any infraction of the habits of the group, any immodesty or immorality, will ruin her standing and her chance of marriage, and bring her into shame and confusion.  Consequently, good behavior is a protective measure—­instinctive, of course; for it is not true that the ordinary girl has imagination enough to think out a general attitude toward life other than that which is habitual in her group.  But when she becomes detached from home and group, and is removed not only from surveillance, but from the ordinary stimulation and interest afforded by social life and acquaintanceship, her inhibitions are likely to be relaxed.

The girl coming from the country to the city affords one of the clearest cases of detachment.  Assuming that she comes to the city to earn her living, her work is not only irksome, but so unremunerative that she finds it impossible to obtain those accessories to her personality in the way of finery which would be sufficient to hold her attention and satisfy her if they were to be had in plenty.  She is lost from the sight of everyone whose opinion has any meaning for her, while the separation from her home community renders her condition peculiarly flat and lonely; and she is prepared to accept any opportunity for stimulation offered her, unless she has been morally standardized before leaving home.  To be completely lost sight of may, indeed, become an object under these circumstances—­the only means by which she can without confusion accept unapproved stimulations—­and to pass from a regular to an irregular life and back again before the fact has been noted is not an unusual course.