I was expelled from Vassar at age 19 for running a gambling ring at Yale. I scandalized my well-wishers by refusing to make my debut. Although I am perfectly at home in a ballroom or an artist's salon, I prefer socializing in less rarified settings.
I've flirted with anarchism and know Emma Goldman personally. The philosophy is silly, but it really annoys my family that I dabble in socialism. I do believe that women should have the vote and in general I am in favor of feminist goals. But I see no need to form a club about it all. And I am certainly not about to march with a bunch of suffragettes seeking to gain the franchise for women.
My family, of course, knows the Roosevelts. I've been on more than one camping expedition with Theodore in the West. I can handle various firearms and shoot well enough. I probably could field dress a moose but I pray I'll never need to do any such thing.
My dear cousin, J.P. Morgan, disapproves of me. But that's why he uses me on dubious missions. He has interests at Columbia and has promised that I can go to Barnard as a reward. I don't see the point really, but it keeps him busy trying to find something for me to do and some way to pay me. He ought to try money!
He should put me on the board of directors of Drexel-Morgan. THAT is what he should do. And maybe the Erie Railroad.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A little conversation at tea time.
Morgan: "You're smoking now, Jane? Really?"
Me: "I tried chewing tobacco for awhile but the lack of spittoons really got to me."