I found out that plants have Sex, you know.
Just think of it—carrots, onions, turnips, potatoes, and everything!
Isn't it frightful to think that this agitation has spread to the vegetable kingdom?
I vowed I would never eat another potato as long as I lived!
And, after all, what good does it do—letting the vegetable kingdom have Sex, I mean?
Even a good thing, you know, can be carried too far.
"Mamma," I told her, "you are hopelessly behind the times. Sex is a Great Fact. Someone must discuss it. And who but the Leaders of Thought are worthy to?"
I intend to say nothing more about it now—but when the time comes I will reopen my Salon.
And as far as talking about Sex is concerned—the right sort of a mind will get good out of it, and the wrong sort will get harm.
I don't really like discussions of Sex any more than Mamma does. No really nice girl does.
But we advanced thinkers owe a duty to the race.
Not that the race is grateful. Especially the lower classes.
It was only last week that I was endeavoring to introduce the cook to some advanced ideas—for her
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