She laughed. "Oh, mother, you're a dreadful prude. Why do you think girls wear pretty shoes and stockings, and low cut blouses as thin as a cobweb?" "Hush! Dorothy, you mustn't say such things." There was pain in Mrs. West's voice. "I wish we could face facts," said Dorothy with a sigh. "You see, mother dear," she continued, "when you're in a government office, with heaps of other girls and men about, you get to know things, see things, and sometimes you get to hate things." "I have always regretted," began Mrs. West sadly. "You mustn't do that, mother dear," cried Dorothy; "it has been an education. But what I want to know is, what is it in a man that attracts a girl?" "Goodness, honour and----" began Mrs. West. "No, it isn't," said Dorothy, "at least they don't attract me." Mrs. West looked pained but said nothing. "You see," continued Dorothy, "there are such a lot of good men about, and honourable men, and--and--they're so dreadfully dull and monotonous. I couldn't marry that sort of man," she added with conviction. "But----" began Mrs. West. "You wouldn't----" Then she paused. "I can't explain it, mother," she said, "but I should hate to be doing the same thing always." "But we are doing the same things always, Dorothy," said Mrs. West. "Oh! no we're not," protested Dorothy. "I never know until I get home on Saturday where I'm going to take you. Now if I had a husband, a good and honourable husband, he would begin about Thursday saying that on Saturday afternoon we would go to Hampstead, or to Richmond, or to--oh! anywhere. Then when Saturday came I should hate the very name of the place he had chosen. Then on Sunday we should go to church in the morning, for a walk in the afternoon, pay a call or two, then church or a cinema in the evening. That's good and honourable married life," she concluded with decision. Mrs. West looked down with a puzzled expression on her face. "Wait a minute, mother," said Dorothy. "Now we'll imagine the real me married to a good and honourable man. At twelve-thirty on the Saturday that he has arranged to lose himself and me at the maze at Hampton Court, I telephone to say that we're going to Brighton, and that he's to meet me at Victoria at half-past one, and I'll bring his things. Now what do you think he'd do?" With head on one side she gazed challengingly at her mother. "I--I don't know," faltered Mrs. West. "I do," said Dorothy with conviction. "He'd have a fit. Then if I wanted him to come for a 'bus ride just as he was going to bed," went on Dorothy, "he'd have another fit; and if one fine morning, just as he was off to the office, I were to ask him not to go, but to take me to Richmond instead, he'd have a third fit, and then I should be a widow." "A widow!" questioned Mrs. West. "What are you talking about?"