"'Impertinent!' I said. 'You do yourself too much honor, sir.'

"'I say you expected me to kiss you.'

"'No.'

"'Liar!' He wrinkled up his nose amusingly.

"I suppose I was a liar. I did expect Kendall Brown to--well--not to kiss me necessarily, but to make it perfectly clear that he wanted to.

It was a ridiculous and unnecessary bit of posing on his part to act as if he did not want to. The French have a saying that a pretty woman always expects a suitor to know just _when_ to be lacking in respect."

HOW SHALL A WOMAN SATISFY HER HEART'S LONELINESS?

I quote from my diary without comment another significant conversation that took place during the early months of my widowhood. How I resented, at this time, any suggestion that I was inclined to venture too near the sentimental danger line!

And yet....

"Tonight I had a long talk with Kendall Brown on the same old subject--_what is a woman to do who longs for the companionship of a man, but does not find it?_

"Kendall always says disconcerting things, he is brutally frank; but I like to argue with him because I find him stimulating, and he does know a lot about life.

"'The trouble with women like you, Pen,' he said, 'is that you are not honest with yourselves. You pretend one thing and end by doing something quite different; then you say that you never intended to do this thing.

Why can't you be consistent?'

"'Like men?'

"'Well, at least men know what they are going after, and when they have done a certain thing, they don't waste time regretting it or insisting that they meant to do something else.'

"'You think women are hypocrites?'

"'Yes.'

"'If women are hypocrites, if women are afraid to tell the truth about sentimental things, it is because you men have made them so,' I replied with feeling.

"Kendall answered good-naturedly that he held no brief for his own s.e.x, he acknowledged that men treat women abominably--lie to them, abandon them, and so on; but he kept to his point that women create many of their troubles by drifting back and forth aimlessly on the changing tide of their emotions instead of establishing some definite goal for their lives.

"'Women yield to every sentimental impulse--that is why they weep so easily. Watch them at a murder trial--they weep for the victim, then they weep for the murderer. Half their tears are useless. If women would put into constructive thinking some of the vital power they waste in weeping and talking they could revolutionize the world.'

"'Could they reform the men?' I retorted, but when he tried to answer I stopped him. What was the use? I knew what he would say about this, and I really wanted to get his ideas on the other point.

"'Come back to the question,' I said. 'Take the case of a well-bred woman surrounded by stifling, conventional influences of family and friends, who sees lonely years slipping by while nothing comes that satisfies her womanhood. She may have money enough, comforts, even luxuries, but she longs for the companionship of a man. What is she to do?'

"He answered with his usual positiveness:

"'She must take the initiative. She must go after what she supremely wants, just as a man would, using her power--I a.s.sume that she is reasonably attractive. She must break through restraints, and drive ahead towards the particular kind of emotional happiness that suits her.

That is what G.o.d created her for, to achieve by her own efforts this emotional happiness. If she wants it enough she can get it. We can all of us do anything, have anything on condition that we want it enough to pay the price for it. The price is usually the elimination of other things that interfere.'

"'Suppose a woman wants a husband? Suppose she is forty--and not rich?

Do you mean to say she can get a husband?'

"Here my poet, blazing with conviction, leaned towards me, pointing an emphatic forefinger.

"'I tell you, Penelope Wells, it is possible for any reasonably attractive woman _up to forty-five_ to get a reasonably satisfactory husband if she will work to get him as a man works to make money. She can't sit on a chair and twirl her thumbs and wait for a husband to drop into her lap out of the skies like a ripe plum. She must bend destiny to her purposes. She must make sacrifices, create opportunities, move about, use the intelligence that G.o.d has given her. The world is full of men who are half ready to marry--_she must turn the balance!_

"'Listen! If I were a lonely woman yearning for matrimony I would pick out one of these eligible males and make him my own. I would make him feel that the thing he wanted above all other things was to have me for his wife. How would I do this? I would study his desires, his needs, his weaknesses; I would make myself so necessary to him--as necessary as a mother is to a child--that he couldn't get along without me. I tell you it can be done, Pen, by the resistless power of the human will. The trouble with most of us is that we don't want things hard enough. _If a woman wants a husband hard enough she will get him--nothing can prevent it!_'

"I smiled at these fantastic views, although I admit, that we women ought to be more masters of our fates than we are. In my own case I suppose it would have been better if I had left Julian of my own volition, because it was right to leave him, instead of waiting for an automobile accident to separate us.

"'Please be sensible, Kendall,' I protested. 'Give me thoughts that apply to the world as it is, not extravagant fancies. You know perfectly well that there are thousands, tens of thousands, of fairly attractive women in all cla.s.ses of society, especially in the wage earning cla.s.s, who have no chance to marry the kind of man they wish to marry. Besides, there are a million more women than men in American. They can't all get husbands, can they? There aren't enough men to go around. And there are other thousands of wretched women tied to husbands who will not consent to a divorce. What are all these unhappy women to do?'

"'Can't they get along without men?' he laughed.

"'Can men get along without women?' I answered, rather annoyed. Kendall saw that I was serious and changed his tone.

"'Let me get this straight, Pen. If a woman longs for the companionship of a man--you mean the intimate companionship? You are not talking about platonic friendship?'

"'No, I mean the intimate companionship.'

"'And she cannot marry? Then what is she to do? Is that what you mean?'

"'Yes.'

"'Ah! Now we come to the heart of the discussion. You want to know if there are cases where self-respecting women enter into irregular love affairs and never regret it? Is it possible for a woman to break the moral law without suffering disastrous consequences? Are there cases where a girl or a woman yields to the desperate cry of her soul for a mate without degradation and without loss of her self-respect? Can such things be? Do you want my honest opinion?' The poet's eyes challenged me.

"'Yes, that is exactly what I want, I want the truth.'

"Whereupon Kendall Brown a.s.sured me that he has known a number of rather fine women, self-supporting and self-respecting, the kind of women who say their prayers at night and try to be kind, who, nevertheless, have had _liaisons_ that have not resulted in shame and sorrow or in any moral or material disaster.

"'Are you sure of this? How can you be sure?'

"'Because I have talked frankly with these women. Sometimes I was in a position where I could, and, anyhow, women tell me things. They know it is my business to study life, to glimpse the heights and depths of human nature. I would be a poor poet if I couldn't do that.'

"'And these women told you that they have never felt regrets?'

"'Practically that--yes; several of them said that they would do the same thing over again if they had to relive their lives. They have been happier, more efficient in their work, they have had better health, calmer nerves, a more serene att.i.tude towards life because of these love affairs.'

"'I don't believe it,' I declared. 'These women lied to you. They kept something back. The thing is wrong, abominable, and nothing can make it right or decent. I would rather die of loneliness.'

"I shall never forget Kendall's superior smile as he answered me:

"'Oh, the inconsistency of a woman! She will not marry, she will not have an _affaire_, yet she longs for the intimate companionship of a man. She wants to go swimming, but insists upon keeping away from the water.'

"I bit my lip in vexation of spirit.

"'Dear friend, don't be annoyed with me,' my poet continued with a quick change to gentleness. 'I didn't make the world or put these troublesome desires and inconsistencies into the hearts of women. Listen! I'll give you my best wisdom now: If a woman cannot marry and will not have a lover, then she must stop all stimulation of her emotions, she must put men out of her thoughts, out of her life and concentrate on something worth while that will not harm her. Let her take up the purely intellectual life, some cultural effort--history, art, munic.i.p.al reform, anything, and absorb herself in it. Or let her follow the old path that has led thousands of women to peace of mind--let her seek the comforts of religion.' Then smiling, he added: 'You might become a missionary, Pen, in China or Armenia. I'll bet you'd be flirting with some mandarin or pasha before you got through.'

"Again I bit my lip, for I knew very well that the religious life would never satisfy me. If I entered a convent I should probably run away from it in despair. What a horrible situation to want to do right and long to do wrong at the same time!

"Kendall Brown must have read my thoughts.