I've  had  to  do  with  him  for  two  years,  and  he's  straight.
You  might  do  better.    You  might  do  worse."

I  was  very  annoyed.    He  wanted  to  tuck  me  up.    He  was

sorry  for  me  and  wanted  to  save  me  from  a  cruel  world.     I

felt  like  a  Christian  found  unfit  for  the  lions.    I  said  so  with

some  heat.
"Oh,"  he  replied,  on  his  defense,  "have  it  as  you  like.
I  don't  want  you  to  marry  him.    I'd  rather  . . ."    He  stopped

and  I  blushed.    But  his  tact  carried  him  on.       "You  see,

the  world's  a  difficult  place  for  a  pretty  woman.    Looks  have

their  value,  but  only  one  sort  of  value.    Looks  are  a  wasting


"What's  a  wasting  asset?"

"An  asset  that  goes  down  in  value  year  by  year  as  you  use
it.  Like  a  mine,  or  a  car.  You  can  put  up  a  sinking  fund  to
redeem  the  cost  of  your  car,  or  the  value  of  your  mine,  but
there's  no  sinking  fund  that  will  get  you  back  the  velvet  of
your  cheek,  the  olive  marble  of  your  neck,  or  the  sleepy
topaz  of  your  eyes."

After  a  moment  I  said:  "I  don't  know  what  you're  talking
about.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  redeeming,  nor  by
a  sinking  fund,  but  men  always  talk  like  that.  They  like  to
say  things  we  don't  understand,  because  they  like  to  think  us
silly.  We  don't  mind."  I  discovered  with  surprise  that  I
was  flu-ting  with  him.
