ow the
Brazilian diamonds and the fire kindler were laying up sufficient
treasure to guarantee the happiness of two, and that both of 'em
together couldn't equal the light from somebody's eyes, and that the
name of Dugan should be changed to Peters, or reasons why not would be
in order.

"Mame didn't say anything right away. Directly she gave a kind of
shudder, and I began to learn something.

"'Jeff,' she says, 'I'm sorry you spoke. I like you as well
as any of them, but there isn't a man in the world I'd ever
marry, and there never will be. Do you know what a man is in
my eye? He's a tomb. He's a sarcophagus for the interment of
Beafsteakporkchopsliver'nbaconhamandeggs. He's that and nothing more.
For two years I've watched men eat, eat, eat, until they represent
nothing on earth to me but ruminant bipeds. They're absolutely nothing
but something that goes in front of a knife and fork and plate at the
table. They're fixed that way in my mind and memory. I've tried to
overcome it, but I can't. I've heard girls rave about their sweethearts,
but I never could understand it. A man and a sausage grinder and a
pantry awake in me exactly the same sentiments. I went to a matinee once
to see an actor the girls were crazy about. I got interested enough to
wonder whether he liked his steak rare, medium, or well done, and his
eggs over or straight up. That was all. No, Jeff; I'll marry no man and
see him sit at the breakfast table and eat, and come back to dinner and
eat, and happen in again at supper to eat, eat, eat.'

"'But, Mame,' says I, 'it'll wear off. You've had too much of it.
You'll marry some time, of course. Men don't eat always.'

"'As far as my observation goes, they do. No, I'll tell you what
I'm going to do.' Mame turns, sudden, to animation and bright eyes.
'There's a girl named Susie Foster in Terre Haute, a chum of mine.
She waits in the railroad eating house there. I worked two years in a
restaurant in that town. Susie has it worse than I do, because the men
who eat at railroad stations gobble. They try to flirt and gobble at
the same time. Whew! Susie and I have it all planned out. We're saving
our money, and when we get enough we're going to buy a little cottage
and five acres we know of, and live together, and grow violets for the
Eastern market. A man better not bring his appetite within a mile of
that ranch.'

"'Don't girls ever--' I commenced, but Mame heads me off, sharp.

"'No, they don't. They