Bertha Cool said sarcastically, “You know, people have been in love and still managed to keep their jobs. Lots of them get married and still manage to work. Don’t ask me how they do it, because I don’t know, but it has been done; and if you’re resourceful, you should be able to figure out some way. They tell me lots of men want to support their wives, and in order to do it, they have to work. Some men even put off marrying until they can get jobs. It seems a shame, but that’s what actually happens. They claim there are statistics to prove it.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m quitting.”
“And how are you going to support this little wren, or has she a fortune of her own?”
“We’ll get along.”
“Donald Lam, you listen to me. You can’t pull out and leave me in the lurch this way, and what’s more, you aren’t in love. You’ve just fallen for some little trollop who’s given you the come-hither eye. My God, if you knew as much about women as I do, you’d never even think of marrying one. Don’t ever kid yourself. They want security, and they don’t want to be old maids. They’re hunters, Donald, ruthless, skillful, unprincipled, who talk mealymouthed and make sheep’s eyes at you, but all the time in the backs of their heads they’re thinking, ‘Well; this man isn’t exactly what I want, but he’ll do in a pinch, and he’s so soft-hearted and polite that if I just string him along, I can lead him into a proposal of marriage without his ever knowing he’s had a ring stuck through his nose. He’s too much of a gentleman to turn me down.’ They—”
“This woman isn’t like that.”
“Oh, no! No, of course not. She’s different.”
“She is.”
“Well, why won’t she let you keep your job then?”
“Because she doesn’t like police. She doesn’t like detectives. She wouldn’t really fall for me if I kept on being a private detective.”