“You’re a woman, Mrs. Cool. I can talk to you and say things that one couldn’t say to a man. I have a friend who says that twice in every woman’s life comes the chance for genuine happiness, that the big majority of women throw both chances away. He’s a mining man. He says that the good mines are those that have a big deposit of medium-grade ore. He says happiness is like that. You have to get a big deposit of medium-grade attributes in a man in order to make for happiness. He says most women throw their chances away to chase after the glittering samples of high-grade ore — what they call ‘jewellery-rock’ in mining circles. My mining friend says that those veins nearly always pinch out. That life just isn’t that easy. That when you find a really rich deposit of jewellery-rock, it’s a flash in the pan.”
“What was Everett Belder?” Bertha asked. “Jewellery-rock?”
“No. Everett was one of my chances for happiness. He was a great big deposit of better-than-average ore.”
Bertha lit another cigarette.
“I wanted to see him again,” Dolly Cornish said, “and I was glad I did.”
“Decide to hang on to him this time?” Bertha asked.
Dolly Cornish shook her head. There was a wistful look in her eyes. “He’s changed.”
“In what way?”
“I told you he was a deposit of better-than-average ore. Somewhere he’d got it through his head that he was jewellery-rock. He’s been trying to be something that he isn’t, and he’s been trying for several years. It’s ruined him.”
“Perhaps you could bring him back,” Bertha said.