Female friendship -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
“Am I? Well, you see, I know a good many men pretty intimately; and I
have gleaned from various confiding moments that it is not the working
woman chiefly, relying only on her own protection, who strays into the
murky byways and muddy corners of life. It is surprisingly often the
direction of the idle, home-guarded, bored young lady. Flip, if it came
to a choice, I believe I would put my money on the worker. It’s such a
splendid, healthy, steadying thing to have a real purpose and a real
occupation; instead of just days and weeks of idle enjoyment. And as
for temptations! Well, they abound pretty fully in both cases; it isn’t
the amount of temptation likely to be encountered that matters, so much
as the quality of the individual armour to meet it with.”
“Still, when it comes to being hungry and cold and having no money?” he
argued.
“It doesn’t make much difference in the long run, except that one hopes
The Man Above will surely find a wider forgiveness for the woman who
was hungry and cold than for the woman who was just bored, but hadn’t
the grit to find an aim and purpose to renew and invigorate a
purposeless life. All the same, I’d like to see Hal safely anchored to
a real good fellow. Flip, if you could persuade her to try, she’d make
you a splendid wife.”
“And what in the world should I do with a splendid wife?” laughing
frankly into her face—“what an appalling possession! Lorry, old girl,
I’ve got a splendid woman pal, and that’s good enough for me. If I ever
want a wife you shall have the privilege of finding me one: but it
won’t be until I am old and gouty, and then she had better be a
hospital nurse, inured to irritability.”
“You are quite hopeless,” shaking her head at him, “but I don’t
particularly want to lose you as a friend, unless it is for Hal; so
we’ll say no more.”
“Sensible woman! And now I must really be off. I like your friends,
Lorry. They’re very fresh. And of course Hermon is tremendous. You
haven’t overdrawn him at all. Only to be careful. Remember the burnt
child. A man like that ought to be made to wear a mask and hideous
garments, for the protection of susceptible females.”
“He would need to speak through a grating trumpet as well.”
“Yes, I suppose he would. Even I can hear the attraction in his voice.
It will be splendid when he begins to feel his feet in the law courts.
We’ll make a celebrity of him, shall we—just for the interest of it.
But it’s to be only a hobby, Lorraine, no entanglements, mind”—and he
laughed his low, pleasant laught.
“Very well, call it a hobby, or what you like—only keep him in mind
now, Flip. I’ve got him into an ambitious spirit that means everything,
if there is enough fuel at the beginning to keep it alight until it is
a glowing pile quite capable of burning gaily alone.”
“Right you are. I like him. You fan the flame, and I’ll rake up the
fuel. I’ll speak to Hodson about him tomorrow. He’s always ready to
lend a hand to a promising junior.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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