“None at all! It’s dangerous! Might just as well fool with nitroglycerin. People who handle it at all become careless.”
There were indications of a rising temper. That a mean old insurance company should have the audacity to tell her what she could or could not do was an outrage!
“And you can’t use street-cars,” added Murray.
“Can’t use street-cars!” she cried. “What will Harry do?”
“Oh, that rule doesn’t apply to men,” returned Murray calmly, “for men don’t get off the cars backward and all that sort of thing. Street-cars are considered, in our business, a danger only for women.”
“Well, it’s a hateful, insulting, unfair business!” she cried, rising in her indignation. “I wouldn’t let such a contemptible lot of people insure me for anything in the world.”
“But please don’t blame me,” urged Murray insinuatingly. “I want to do the best I can for you.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you,” she returned magnanimously.
“I admit that it sounds unfair,” Murray persisted, “but there was a time when we wouldn’t take risks on women at all, so, even with the restrictions, it’s quite a concession.”
“Oh, very likely, very likely,” she admitted, “but I have too much pride to accept any such humiliating conditions. Harry can do as he pleases,” with dignity, “but nothing could induce me to be insured now. I’m going home.”