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Newspaper Page Text
THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
DID I REALLY FLIRT WITH HIM? CONFESSION 182
Well, I am on my way.
Tonight I am at the hotel in the
city where Kitty is to be married.
I insisted upon going to a hotel, as
for at least twenty-four hours I
wanted to be alone away from ev
erybody. I had rather an amusing experi
ence on the way over here. The chair
car was full. Next to me sat a wom
an somewhat older than I, but she
looked intelligent and I thought she
might be a good companion during
the long journey.
I don't think she liked my looks,
however, for after letting her eyes
run over me in a leisurely fashion
she paid not the slightest attention
I spoke to her two or three times
and she answered me in the veriest
monosyllables. At last I gave it up
as a bad job and turned my attention
to the man across the aisle. He was
about forty and looked not only pros
perous but brainy. He had evidently
been watching my maneuvers with
my taciturn neighbor, and when the
man back of me went into the smok
ing car he slipped into his seat and
made some remark on the monotony
of the scenery.
I answered with alacrity, for I had
never felt there is any indiscretion in
speaking to a man who accosts you
politely on a railroad train.
The woman in fronts of me was
then sure she had done the right
thing by suppressing my eagerness
to talk with her.
He told me all about himself very
frankly and then began in a polite
way to ask me about myself. .
Oh, what fun I had in circumvent
ing him. I caught him looking at my
ringless fingers and was glad that I
had refused to tag myself by wearing
my wedding ring constantly. He
spoke to me pointedly as "Miss," and
I supplied the name of Waverly, de
murely ignoring the rising inflection 1
he put upon the "Miss."
Every man is always on needles
and pins until he knows if the woman
he meets be she sixteen or sixty or
any of the ages between is married
or single. I do not know if the man
I met on the train is married or sin
gle, and I don't consider it any of my
business, but he seemed very anxious
to make me declare whether I had a
husband or not.
Never tell me that men are not
more curious than women. I would
have been perfectly content to talk to
that man about ideas, for he had
many of them, or events in the
world's "goings on," but he insisted
upon bringing the conversation
around to the personal.
"You must make a splendid cross
examiner," I said.
He blushed and stammered: "I
hope I have not been impertinent,
Miss Waverly. I assure you I did not
intend to be, but people interest me
more than anything else in the
"No; people don't," I answered,
"but women do!" He looked up
quickly and my woman neighbor
"I don't think you are alone in this
regard. Men and women are inter
ested in each to the exclusion of ev
erything else. Please notice I am
saying men and women."
"I'll confess that men are most in
terested in women, for they are al
ways a riddle to be solved," said the
"That is all nonsense," I quickly re
joined. "Men say they do not understand
women, but it is because they think
us so complex, but if you would talk
to me as frankly and sincerely as you
would to any man stranger you had
met on the cars you would find me
just as simple, just as commonplace,
as any other human being."
"My dear young lady, you certain-