“Off and on for the last six months. About once a week I go out in the country and practice.”
“May I ask why?” Mason inquired.
“Because,” she said grimly, “I’m there alone much of the time. There are thousands of dollars worth of jewels in that vault. I certainly don’t propose to be stuck up, and stand there like a ninny while some highwayman goes through the vault and cleans Uncle George out.”
“Aren’t they insured?”
“Some of them are. But it isn’t a question of the insurance, Mr. Mason, it’s a question of the development of my own character. I Want to be self-reliant... If you keep walking with crutches, your legs get weak. I want to stand on my own two feet... I have a boyfriend who... well, he likes self-reliant women... and he’s quite a revolver shot. I want to share in his life. I want to like the things he likes. I want to be his pal. I think a woman who doesn’t cultivate the same tastes as the man she’s interested in is making a big mistake. Biologically, we know that opposites attract each other, but that’s opposite temperaments. After the original attraction has cooled, the basis of companionship has to be a sharing of interests. People can’t get along forever, just on the strength of a biological attraction. Companionship between the sexes is comprised of two very distinct stages. First, there’s the biological reaction. Then there’s the...”
Mason said, “I’m talking about revolver shooting. You’re talking about matrimony.”
“Not matrimony,” she said, “just the basic reactions. Matrimony is an outgrowth of...”
“Never mind what it is,” Mason said. “Let’s quit talking about what you’re talking about and talk about what I’m trying to talk about.” She flushed. “And that,” Mason said, “means revolver shooting.”
“Well,” she said, “there’s nothing to add to what I’ve told you. For the past six months I’ve been practicing revolver shooting. And,” she said, “I’ve become quite proficient.”
“Your practice was with this thirty-eight caliber?”