bachelor. "The very fact that she can take
care of herself and get across gutters alone and pick up things for
herself and handle her own horse and beat me at golf and tennis, takes
away that gratifying sense of protection--"

"And superiority," interposed the widow softly.

"That a man likes to feel toward a woman," concluded the bachelor,
ignoring her. "Muscle and biceps and a 32-inch waist," he added, "are
'refreshing,' but in time they get on your nerves. It may not be immoral
for a dear little thing to say 'damn,' but it affects a man just as it
would to hear a canary bird squawking like a parrot. When a chap is
going for a walk cross country he may pick out the girl with the stride
and the strong back, who can leap a fence and help herself over puddles,
to accompany him, but when he is ready for a walk to the altar he
naturally prefers somebody who understands the art of leaning gently on
the masculine arm and who hasn't any rough edges or----"

"Sharp points of view," suggested the widow.

"Or opinions on the equality of the sexes," added the bachelor.

"Or on politics."

"Or the higher life."

"Or on anything but the latest way to curl her hair and make over a
hat," finished the widow. "Isn't it funny," she added thoughtfully
twisting a French knot into the centre of the sickly green rose, "how
many men idealize a fool?"

The bachelor started.

"I---I beg your pardon," he stammered.

"All a woman has got to know in order to wear a halo," went on the
widow, calmly fastening the French knot with a jerk of her needle, "is
how to keep it on straight. All a man demands of her is the negative
virtues and the knowledge of how not to do things; how not to think, how
not to argue, how not to nag, how not to theorize, how not to be
athletic, how not to spend money, how not to take care of herself, how
not----"

"You've got your ideas into a French knot!" broke in the bachelor
desperately. "You're all tangled up in the thread of your argument. It
isn't how not to do things but how to do them that is important to a
woman. It isn't what she does but how she does it that matters. She may
commit a highway murder or low down burglary; and if she does it in a
ruffled skirt and a picture hat any man will forgive her. Her morals
may be as crooked and dark as a lane at midnight; but if her manners are
smooth and gentle and guileless and tender she can deceive the cleverest
man alive into believing her a nun. It isn't