Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences
were too much trouble. "I've come to the conclusion that I don't
know how to manage men," she said. "I never can get along with one
for any time."
I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I
had only tried it once. "Tell me," I said, "who's Larry?"
"There's his picture." She reached into a drawer of her dresser.
I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know
better. "He doesn't seem especially forbidding," I said.
"That's just the trouble--you can never tell about men!"
I noted a date on the picture. "He seems to be an old friend. You
never told me about him."
"He doesn't like being told about. He has a troublesome wife."
I winced inwardly, but all I said was, "I see."
"He's a stock-broker; and he got 'squeezed,' so he says, and it's
made him cross--and careful with his money, too. That's trying, in a
stock-broker, you must admit." She laughed. "And still he's just as
particular--wants to have his own way in everything, wants to say
whom I shall know and where I shall go. I said, 'I have all the
inconveniences of matrimony, and none of the advantages.
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