"It may sound boastful, but I've never courted a man, Lao," she said. "As you may have noticed, I have conservative habits. I'm afraid I'm a little out of place in the modern world. I don't approve of the frivolous attitude people have toward marriage now."
Lao looked at her, not without some affection. Of course he had made advances, as most men did to all unmarried women with whom they associated.
But Grida was a history teacher, and she lived by the outmoded morals of the distant past. She had made it known at once that marriage was her price for intimacy, and she gave no hint she was interested in marriage.
"There's nothing frivolous about it from the man's view-point, when only a woman can apply for a divorce," replied Lao. "That's why it's hard for women to catch husbands. With ten women to every man, most men have no trouble finding mistresses."
"I don't approve of that, either," said Grida, compressing her lips firmly.
The telephone interrupted, and Lao went into the library to talk.
"On your call, sir," came the thin voice of the Nuyork operator, "there is no Colorvue Publicity listed."
"What!" he exclaimed. "There must be! Check again."
He waited a long, anxious moment.
"I'm sorry, sir," came the operator's voice again. "I have checked our directory, and there is no Colorvue Publicity listed."