Bob had spent the hour and a half taking notes in a black notebook with his name in gold letters on the front of it. Mary Jane was slightly piqued because he hadn't said anything about her hair, which she had fixed specially for the evening. But she reminded herself that she was being childish and told Bob that she had found the lecture very exciting. This had the effect of encouraging Bob to invite her to two more evenings of a similar nature. At one of them, a personnel manager had discussed factors in the making of young executives. Bob took notes on that too. At another, an advertising manager had discussed the results of an experiment in which five hundred people had been sent circulars in which they were promised a dollar if they returned the circular with their names and addresses on it. The only bright point in that lecture was that somebody had apparently collected twenty copies of the circular from other people's trash barrels and so got twenty dollars for himself. When, therefore, Bob called her again with a proposal to hear a visiting psychologist lecture on "Egotism as a Factor in Sales Resistance," she decided she had had enough and said she was busy. "I just don't know what's the matter with men," she said putting the phone down. "When Woody takes me out, all he does is talk about cars. And when Bob takes me out, he keeps trying to improve my mind. Isn't there anybody who will take me out just because I'm _me_?" Her mother, busy with ironing, made no comment. "Didn't Daddy ever take you out just for you before you were married?" Mary Jane asked. "Oh, yes," her mother replied. "What did you talk about?" Mary Jane asked, intrigued. "His business mostly, I think," said Mrs. Jackson. "Didn't he take you dancing, or for a ride in a horse and buggy in the moonlight?" Mrs. Jackson put down her iron and contemplated her daughter. "Horse and buggy!" she said. "How old do you think I am? Your grandmother probably went on dates in a horse and buggy. I went in my car. It was a Chrysler two-seater--one of the first they ever produced. And, young lady, I owned it. Sometimes I used to think that your father dated me just to drive the car. He said when we were married he'd buy me a much better one." "Did he?" asked Mary Jane. "No, dear," her mother replied. "He bought me a house full of furniture. It was much more practical. But anyway, if you're not doing anything this evening and you want to, why don't you call up Woody?" "Oh, Mother, I can't," said Mary Jane. "We're not speaking. Besides, he's probably busy with his silly old hot rod." Mrs. Jackson said nothing but went on with her ironing. "Do you really think I ought to call him?" Mary Jane asked. "Sometimes we used to have a lot of fun together. Though he's so boyish." Mrs. Jackson still remained silent, and Mary Jane said, "I wonder if he's still at the garage?" She went to the phone and dialed the number.