“The very reason why life insurance is better for us,” he said. “I want to make sure of something for you that we’re certain not to touch while I live.”
But she took the unreasonable view of insurance that some young women do take, and refused to be convinced.
“If I should die first,” she said, with a little shudder at the very thought of death for either of them, “all the money you’d paid the company would be wasted.”
“Not necessarily,” he returned. “There might be—”
“Hush!” she interrupted, blushing so prettily that he went over and kissed her. Then he dropped the subject temporarily, which was the wisest thing he could have done. She had the feminine objection to paying out money for which she got no immediate return, but she wanted to please her husband. She was capricious, imperious at times and then meekly submissive—a spoiled child who surrendered to the emotion of the moment, but whose very inconsistencies were captivating. So when she decided that victory was hers, she also decided to be generous: to please him she would make a concession.
“I’ve changed my mind about insurance,” she told him a few days later. As a matter of fact, she had changed her mind, but not her opinions: she was not convinced, but she would please him by accepting his plan—with a slight modification.
“I knew you would see the wisdom of it!” he exclaimed joyously.
“How much insurance did you plan to get?” she asked, with a pretty assumption of business ways.
“Ten thousand dollars,” he replied.
“Well, we’ll divide it,” she said, “and each get five thousand dollars.”