“All men are physically vain,” said she. “And they can’t help it, because it is the hereditary quality of the male from fishes and reptiles up.”
“He’s inclined to be opinionated, and his point of view is narrow.”
“I think I might hope to educate him out of that,” said she. “I can be tactful.”
“It’s certainly not a serious objection.”
“Any other spots?”
“He has a certain—a certain—lack of vigor. It’s a thing I’ve observed in all professional men, except those of the first rank, those who are really men of action.”
She nodded. “I was waiting for that,” said she. “It’s the thing that has made me hesitate.” She laughed outright. “What a conceited speech! But I’m exposing myself fully to you.”
“Why not?” said I.
“I am picking him to pieces as if I thought myself perfection. As a matter of fact, I know he’d fly from me if he saw me as I am.” She reflected, laughed quietly. “But he never would know me as I am. An unconventional woman—if she’s sensible—only shows enough of her variation from the pattern to make herself interesting—never enough to be alarming.”
“You are unconventional?”