“Douglas has taken up a saying that my cousin brought with him: ‘What you don’t know won’t hurt you!’ I think that before he left, Harley had begun to suspect that all was not well between my husband and myself, and he felt it necessary to give me a little friendly counsel. He was tactful, and politely vague, but I understood him—my worldly-wise young cousin. I think that saying of his sums up the philosophy that he would teach to all women—‘What you don’t know won’t hurt you!’”
7. A week or so later Sylvia wrote me that her husband was in New York. And I waited another week, for good measure, and then one morning dropped in for a call upon Claire Lepage.
Why did I do it? you ask. I had no definite purpose—only a general opposition to the philosophy of Cousin Harley.
I was ushered into Claire’s boudoir, which was still littered with last evening’s apparel. She sat in a dressing-gown with resplendent red roses on it, and brushed the hair out of her eyes, and apologized for not being ready for callers.
“I’ve just had a talking to from Larry,” she explained.
“Larry?” said I, inquiringly; for Claire had always informed me elaborately that van Tuiver had been her one departure from propriety, and always would be.
Apparently she had now reached a stage in her career where pretences were too much trouble. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t know how to manage men,” she said. “I never can get along with one for any time.”
I remarked that I had had the same experience; though of course I had only tried it once. “Tell me,” I said, “who’s Larry?”
“There’s his picture.” She reached into a drawer of her dresser.
I saw a handsome blonde gentleman, who looked old enough to know better. “He doesn’t seem especially forbidding,” I said.