“Not from disappointed ones. The disappointed ones hate the handsome man’s wife worse than the others do. No, she is bound to fight the thing out for herself.” “Well, most people get over it.” “Get over what?” “Being handsome.” “Yet women have the worst of it again. The handsome man lasts longer somehow.” “Should you call Dick a handsome man?” “Certainly not. Dick is a good fellow, but no one ever accused him of being handsome. You should have known that I couldn’t possibly be personal.” “O, I did, from my side.” “Don’t be malicious. The first case I ever knew was of a classmate of mine, a lovely girl. Do you know, I was present at the beginning of a most dreadful quarrel, after she had suffered everything. Well, he went to the d— bad, and she went to Lenox; and they both came back and patched it up somehow.” “I can imagine your balancing in your mind four years ago the arguments in favor of the proposition that Dick was handsome enough to count.” “Nonsense. I never thought of such a thing then. I have learned a lot in four years. Mother says I am a cynic.” “What does Dick say you are?” “Dick says I am a woman.” “I hope this hasn’t resulted from your coming to Chicago—I mean your being a cynic.” “I scarcely think so. Do you know, Chicago is much less sentimental than New York. That struck me when I first came here, and every time we go to New York I am freshly impressed by the fact.” “I have never thought of New York as especially sentimental.” “Perhaps you wouldn’t unless you definitely compared it with some other big city. You know what I mean,—in the matter of the sentiments. Chicago seemed to me _désillusionné_. It hasn’t had to take time to get through with some things, because it never began with them.” “I suppose that you feel that Chicago is a little cynical, too.” “Well, it is awfully hard to fool Chicago.” “Do you suppose your old ladies and gentlemen think so?” “I suppose you never will get through laughing at that. They really are a good joke. But we have a certain amount of fun out of them after all. I’m not like those women who only care for the games they can win at. I’m satisfied to squeeze a little chuckle out of circumstances. I don’t expect too much. Take matrimony. Some women think it is a poor game simply because they haven’t been able to win at it. And it is the same even with religion. The other night our bishop was telling me about the diminishing congregations. I told him that the church people were not keeping pace with the spirit of the time. ‘The trouble with you, Bishop,’ I said, ‘is that you don’t advertise. Look at Talmage.’ ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘we do advertise somewhat, and we have one bargain day every week. We call it Sunday. But people are becoming dreadfully exacting. And our stock is very old.’ You can get a good deal of comfort out of the church if you look at it as Renan did—as an institution for keeping other people quiet.” [Illustration]