Charlotte [astounded]. What!
Doris. That isn’t very long, but you see in marriage every day counts.
Charlotte. Well, then, you can’t throw him over.
Doris. It’s next to impossible, I guess.
Charlotte. Was it a secret marriage?
Doris. Yes, there was nobody there but I and Joseph and the fella that did it. And I’m still living at home. You see, this girl that Joe was keeping waiting to see whether he was going to marry me or not, got impatient, and said she couldn’t be kept waiting any longer. It made her sort of nervous. She couldn’t eat her meals.
Charlotte. So you got married. And now you’re tired of him.
Doris. No, not exactly that, but it just sort of makes me uncomfortable, Charlotte, to know that you can’t throw over the man you’ve got without causing a lot of talk. Suppose he took to drink or something. You know everybody can’t get rid of their husbands as easy as you did.
Charlotte. One husband was always enough for me.
Doris. One may be all right for you, Charlotte, because you’re a monographist, but supposing Rudolph Valentino, or the Prince of Wales, or John D. Rockefeller was to walk in here and say: “Doris, I’ve worshipped you from a distance on account of the picture that you sent to the fame and fortune contest of the movie magazine, that got left out by accident or lost or something. Will you marry me?” What would you say, Charlotte?