hysterics does to a
husband.
We are wont to speak of woman's tenderness, but there is no tenderness
like that of a man for the woman he loves when she is tired or troubled,
and the man who has learned simply to love a woman at crucial
moments, and to postpone the inevitable idiotic questioning till a more
auspicious time, has in his hands the talisman of domestic felicity.
If by any chance the lachrymal glands were to be dried up, woman's life
would lose a goodly share of its charm. There is nothing to cry on
which compares with a man's shoulder; almost any man will do at a
critical moment; but the clavicle of a lover is by far the most desirable.
If the flood is copious and a collar or an immaculate shirt-front can be
spoiled, the scene acquires new and distinct value. A pillow does very
well, lacking the shoulder, for many of the most attractive women in
fiction habitually cry into pillows--because they have no lover, or
because the brute dislikes tears.
When grief strikes deep, a woman's eyes are dry. Her soul shudders and
there is a hand upon her heart whose icy fingers clutch at the inward
fibre in a very real physical pain. There are no tears for times like these;
the inner depths, bare and quivering, are healed by no such balm as
this.
A sudden blow leaves a woman as cold as a marble statue and
absolutely dumb as to the thing which lies upon her heart. When the
tears begin to flow, it means that resignation and content will surely
come. On the contrary, when once or twice in a lifetime a man is
moved to tears, there is nothing so terrible and so hopeless as his
sobbing grief.
Married and unmarried women waste a great deal of time in feeling
sorry for each other. It never occurs to a married woman that a spinster
may not care to take the troublous step. An ideal lover in one's heart is
less strain upon the imagination than the transfiguration of a man who
goes around in his shirt-sleeves and dispenses with his collar at ninety
degrees Fahrenheit.
[Sidenote: The Unknown Country]
If fiction dealt pleasantly with men who are unmindful of small
courtesies, the unknown country beyond the altar would lose some of
its fear. If the way of an engaged girl lies past a barber shop,--which
very seldom has a curtain, by the way,--and she happens to think that
she may some day behold her beloved in the dangerous act of shaving
himself, it immediately hardens her heart. One glimpse of one face
covered with lather will postpone one wedding-day five weeks. Many a
lover has attributed to caprice or coquetry the fault which lies at the
door of the "tonsorial parlour."
[Sidenote: Other Feminine Eyes]
A woman may be a mystery to a man and to herself, but never to
another woman. There is no concealment which is effectual when other
feminine eyes are fixed upon one's small and harmless schemes. A
glance at a girl's dressing-table is sufficient for the intimate friend--she
does not need to ask questions; and indeed, there are few situations in
life in which the necessity for direct questions is not a confession of
individual weakness.
If fourteen different kinds of creams and emollients are within easy
reach, the girl has an admirer who is fond of out-door sports and has
not yet declared himself. If the curling iron is kept hot, it is because he
has looked approval when her hair was waved. If there is a box of
rouge but half concealed, the girl thinks the man is a fatuous idiot and
hourly expects a proposal.
If the various drugs are in the dental line, the man is a cheerful soul
with a tendency to be humorous. If she is particular as to small details
of scolding locks and eyebrows, he probably wears glasses. If she
devotes unusual attention to her nails, the affair has progressed to that
interesting stage where he may hold her hand for a few minutes at a
time.
If she selects her handkerchief with extreme care,--one with an initial
and a faint odour of violet--she expects to give it to him to carry and to
forget to ask for it. If he makes an extra call in order to return it, it
indicates a lesser degree of interest than if he says nothing about it. The
forgotten handkerchief is an important straw with a girl when love's
capricious wind blows her way.
It is not entirely without reason that womankind in general blames "the
other woman" for defection of any kind. Short-sighted woman thinks it
a mighty tribute to her own charm to secure the passing interest of
another's
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