“Self-preservation, dear. When one has done something dreadful, one dislikes to be constantly reminded of the fact!” said the girl with the classic profile. “You know my eldest sister, don’t you? Well, her husband has an awful temper, but he seldom gives Sophie any trouble. Whenever he begins to be unpleasant, she says: ‘Isn’t it fortunate, dear; if you should die, or we should ever separate, I could have a good income, anyhow—I could just publish in book form the poems you wrote to me before we were married!’”
“And what then?” asked the president, breathlessly.
“Oh, he kicks the dog or snubs his typewriter; but he never says another word to Sophie.”
“And yet, Sophie used to be considered dull at school,” said the president, thoughtfully. “Well, that’s only another proof that even genius needs a special opportunity.”
“Speaking of opportunities,” said the girl with the eyeglasses, “have you heard of Marie’s last mishap? No? I thought not. You know that delightful young physician who cares nothing for society, and declines all non-professional invitations, and never calls on a woman under seventy. Well, Marie has developed neuralgia, grip, and nervous prostration in swift succession, and he has been called in to attend her. You see, it is this way: it gives her an opportunity to see him in bewitching tea-gowns, and she studies new poses on the sofa when she is not taking powders.”
“Oh! And when are they to be married?” asked the president.
“Never, dear. He says he had long loved her silently, and was trying to summon up enough courage to tell her so. Now, however, he sees that she is too delicate to make a good wife for a hardworking professional man!”
“Humph! No wonder Marie’s little brother told mine he wants to go away to boarding-school,” said the girl with the Roman nose. “Well, I always did hate deceit. I never—”
“By the way,” said the president, “I thought you had such a bad headache that you could not go out to-day.”
“That was when mamma wanted me to accompany her to a meeting at the orphan asylum, dear. I felt ever so much better after she was gone.”