"B'gosh, no—of Christian Science."
There was a crusty old bachelor at the house who got disgusted with the spoony couples and came up to my room to talk it over with me.
"What is love, anyway?" he demanded.
"Intoxication," I answered, unguardedly.
"Right," he quickly said, "then possibly marriage must be delirium tremens."
Before I could recover my breath he fired another hot shot at me.
"There's three things I never could stand if I ever married."
"And what are they?" I asked.
"Triplets."
I tried to give him the old gag about a woman's heart being a gold mine.