And then: “O, Mr. van Stotenbottle, I have been wondering why you
didn’t dance with me. I’ve been simply in a nervous jerk to ask you all
about yourself.”
“Shoot! What do you want to know?” This would be interesting at least.
I actually thought that it would.
“I just wanted to ask if you are married and if your wife is happy
with you. I hardly see how she could be with such a handsome man as
you are. Don’t you think it is a shame how these flapper wives treat
their husbands? I think they are positively disgraceful. Are you going
to be here in the city long? If you are I want to see a great deal of
you because you look as if you are positively unconsolable. I really
mean you do. I think it is a terrible sin too. Poor man! What does she
do to you? Run about with other men? Or maybe you have one of those
companionate marriages. What do you think of them anyway? I think there
is a lot to it and yet I can’t say that I think it is strictly moral.
What do you think? How much did you pay for that suit? I am always
interested in those things. I may have to support a husband of my own
some day, you know.” Then she actually paused.
“I am not married, young lady.” I said that at the top of my voice and
right into her ear. “And furthermore,” I added from sheer anger, “you
will never be.”
Now I ask you, my dear, can you say in all fairness that such as she
should be allowed more than three feet from the wall? And I know of
nothing that will stop her unless she finds some fatuous old fool who
loves bright flowers and who can’t talk very well or very long himself
and who thinks that he must be pampered to be loved. That is the
only thing that would save her from being a wallflower and that only
temporarily, for it would not be long before she found herself growing
against another wall. But that is her problem not ours.