"Suppose there is a country of women only," Jeff had put it, over and over. "What'll they be like?"And we had been cocksure as to the inevitable limitations, the faults and vices, of a lot of women. We had expected them to be given over to what we called "feminine vanity"--"frills and furbelows," and we found they had evolved a costume more perfect than the Chinese dress, richly beautiful when so desired, always useful, of unfailing dignity and good taste.

We had expected a dull submissive monotony, and found a daring social inventiveness far beyond our own, and a mechanical and scientific development fully equal to ours.

We had expected pettiness, and found a social consciousness besides which our nations looked like quarreling children--feebleminded ones at that.

We had expected jealousy, and found a broad sisterly affection, a fair-minded intelligence, to which we could produce no parallel.

We had expected hysteria, and found a standard of health and vigor, a calmness of temper, to which the habit of profanity, for instance, was impossible to explain--we tried it.

All these things even Terry had to admit, but he still insisted that we should find out the other side pretty soon.

"It stands to reason, doesn't it?" he argued. "The whole thing's deuced unnatural--I'd say impossible if we weren't in it.

And an unnatural condition's sure to have unnatural results.

You'll find some awful characteristics--see if you don't! For instance--we don't know yet what they do with their criminals--their defectives--their aged. You notice we haven't seen any!

There's got to be something!"

I was inclined to believe that there had to be something, so I took the bull by the horns--the cow, I should say!--and asked Somel.

"I want to find some flaw in all this perfection," I told her flatly. "It simply isn't possible that three million people have no faults. We are trying our best to understand and learn--would you mind helping us by saying what, to your minds, are the worst qualities of this unique civilization of yours?"We were sitting together in a shaded arbor, in one of those eating-gardens of theirs. The delicious food had been eaten, a plate of fruit still before us. We could look out on one side over a stretch of open country, quietly rich and lovely; on the other, the garden, with tables here and there, far apart enough for privacy. Let me say right here that with all their careful "balance of population" there was no crowding in this country. There was room, space, a sunny breezy freedom everywhere.

Somel set her chin upon her hand, her elbow on the low wall beside her, and looked off over the fair land.

"Of course we have faults--all of us," she said. "In one way you might say that we have more than we used to--that is, our standard of perfection seems to get farther and farther away. But we are not discouraged, because our records do show gain--considerable gain.

"When we began--even with the start of one particularly noble mother--we inherited the characteristics of a long race-record behind her. And they cropped out from time to time--alarmingly. But it is--yes, quite six hundred years since we have had what you call a `criminal.'