That lady over there, my sweet, is of a type that somehow never misses
a dance. She is the elderly ingenue. From this distance one would judge
her to be a very nice young lady but when you get closer you find that
she is not at all what you expected her to be. She is a perennial. Let
us call her Miss Phlox. One can but admire her ability to last and to
appear at the first of every season remodeled and refurbished.
Her dress is in exceptionally good taste and her makeup is quite
perfect but she has that something which makes all the men avoid her.
She has chosen, for some reason, to adopt with a peculiar translation
all the little tricks she has seen practiced by the more popular girls
of the younger set.
She cannot be cured. Let her have her fling. But let’s just ask her
why she wants to have fifteen flings.