ries to make you happy.

There is no use of uttering a protest. You simply must wait, and let
life take it out of him. The man under thirty-five is being trained in
a thousand ways every day that he lives. Some learn more quickly than
others. It depends on the type of man and on the length of time he is
willing to remain in the raw.

You can do little to help him, if you are the first girl to take a
hand at him. You can but prepare him to be a little more amenable to
the next girl. His mind is not on you. It is centred on himself. You
are only an entity to him, not an individual. He cares nothing for
your likes and dislikes, your cares or hopes or fears. He only wishes
you to be pretty and well dressed. Have a mind if you will. He will
not know it. Have a heart and a soul. They do not concern him, because
he cannot see them. He likes to have you tailor-made. You are a Girl
to him. That's all. The eyes of the untrained man under thirty-five
are never taken off himself. They are always turned in. He is studying
himself first and foremost, and the world at large is interesting to
him only inasmuch as it bears relation to himself as the pivotal
point. He fully indorses Pope's line, "The proper study of mankind is
man," and he is that man. Join in his pursuit if you will; show the
wildest enthusiasm in his golf record or how many lumps of sugar he
takes in his coffee, and he will evince neither surprise nor gratitude
for your interest. You are only showing your good taste.

Try to talk to the untrained man under thirty-five upon any subject
except himself. Bait him with different topics of universal interest,
and try to persuade him to leave his own point of view long enough to
look through the eyes of the world. And then notice the hopeless
persistence with which he avoids your dexterous efforts and mentally
lies down to worry his Ego again, like a dog with a bone.

The conceit of one of these men is the most colossal specimen of
psychological architecture in existence. As a social study, when I
have him under the microscope, I can enjoy this. I revel in it, just
as I do in a view of the ocean or the heavens at night--anything so
vast that I cannot see to the end of it. It suggests eternity or
space. But oh! what I have suffered from a mental contact with this
phase of him in society! Sometimes he really is ignorant--has no
brains at all--and then my suffering is lingering. Sometimes he really
knows a great deal--has th