The Spinster Book | Page 3

proud of you." See his face light up with noble,
unselfish joy, because he has given such pleasure to others!
All the married men at evening receptions have gone because they
"look so well in evening dress," and because "so few men can wear
dress clothes really well." In truth, it does require distinction and grace
of bearing, if a man would not be mistaken for a waiter.
Man's conceit is not love of himself but of his fellow-men. The man
who is in love with himself need not fear that any woman will ever
become a serious rival. Not unfrequently, when a man asks a woman to
marry him, he means that he wants her to help him love himself, and if,
blinded by her own feeling, she takes him for her captain, her pleasure
craft becomes a pirate ship, the colours change to a black flag with a
sinister sign, and her inevitable destiny is the coral reef.
[Sidenote: Palmistry]
Palmistry does very well for a beginning if a man is inclined to be shy.
It leads by gentle and almost imperceptible degrees to that most
interesting of all subjects, himself, and to that tactful comment, dearest
of all to the masculine heart; "You are not like other men!"
A man will spend an entire evening, utterly oblivious of the lapse of
time, while a woman subjects him to careful analysis. But sympathy,
rather than sarcasm, must be her guide--if she wants him to come again.
A man will make a comrade of the woman who stimulates him to
higher achievement, but he will love the one who makes herself a
mirror for his conceit.
Men claim that women cannot keep a secret, but it is a common failing.
A man will always tell some one person the thing which is told him in
confidence. If he is married, he tells his wife. Then the exclusive bit of

news is rapidly syndicated, and by gentle degrees, the secret is diffused
through the community. This is the most pathetic thing in
matrimony--the regularity with which husbands relate the irregularities
of their friends. Very little of the world's woe is caused by silence,
however it may be in fiction and the drama.
[Sidenote: Exchange of Confidence]
In return for the generous confidence regarding other people's doings,
the married man is made conversant with those things which his wife
deems it right and proper for him to know. And he is not unhappy, for
it isn't what he doesn't know that troubles a man, but what he knows he
doesn't know.
The masculine nature is less capable of concealment than the feminine.
Where men are frankly selfish, women are secretly so. Man's vices are
few and comprehensive; woman's petty and innumerable. Any man
who is not in the penitentiary has at most but three or four, while a
woman will hide a dozen under her social mask and defy detection.
Women are said to be fickle, but are they more so than men? A man's
ideal is as variable as the wind. What he thinks is his ideal of woman is
usually a glorified image of the last girl he happened to admire. The
man who has had a decided preference for blondes all his life, finally
installs a brown-eyed deity at his hearthstone. If he has been fond of
petite and coquettish damsels, he marries some Diana moulded on large
lines and unconcerned as to mice.
A man will ride, row, and swim with one girl and marry another who is
afraid of horses, turns pale at the mention of a boat, and who would
look forward to an interview with His Satanic Majesty with more ease
and confidence than to a dip in the summer sea.
[Sidenote: Portia and Carmen]
Theoretically, men admire "reasonable women," with the uncommon
quality which is called "common sense," but it is the woman of caprice,
the sweet, illogical despot of a thousand moods, who is most often and

most tenderly loved. Man is by nature a discoverer. It is not beauty
which holds him, but rather mystery and charm. To see the one woman
through all the changing moods--to discern Portia through Carmen's
witchery--is the thing above all others which captivates a man.
[Sidenote: The Dorcas Ideal]
Deep in his heart, man cherishes the Dorcas ideal. The old, lingering
notions of womanliness are not quite dispelled, but in this, as in other
things, nothing sickens a man of his pet theory like seeing it in
operation.
It may be a charming sight to behold a girl stirring cheese in the
chafing-dish, wearing an air of deep concern when it "bunnies" at the
sides and requires still more skill. It may also be attractive to see white
fingers weave wonders with fine linen and delicate silks,