“Well, I’m going to do something. I’m going to get engaged.”
“Yes? Who to?”
“I don’t know. I probably haven’t met him yet, but I’m going to get engaged pretty soon. What’s more, I’m going to get married.” She threw her hat into the closet. “To the next man I meet, if I can. There must be something in it because so many people do it.”
“Well,” Gin said, “it’s a big risk, I think. But I guess it’s your own business.” She thought about it for a long time while she rubbed cold cream on her face, in the bathroom. “Are you going to get a man with a mother, so you can visit her next summer?” she called through the open door.
“If I can,” was the candid retort. Gin frowned into the mirror and began to apply a waver to her hair. After a tense moment of arranging the lock over the left temple she shouted,
“Try to get a dude.”
“I’ve never yet had an unmarried man on the Detour,” said Flo solemnly.
“Well, then, a driver. Keep it in the family. There’s always at least one who has just had a divorce.” There was no answer to this. She tried again: “Write to the papers.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m serious, I tell you.”
“Well, you should be. It’s no laughing matter. Can I borrow a brassiere?”