have
replied in like circumstances. She felt there was nothing more to be
said about the matter and that Gorgeous Girls and commercial nuns had
much in common. As usual, Steve was appointed the official blackguard
of the inevitable triangle!

Going home that night Mary felt that truly the "day was a bitter
almond." It even began to be dramatically muggy and threatening, in
keeping with her state of mind--the sort of forced weather that issues
offstage in roars of thunder the moment the villain begins his
plotting. She took a street car, having meant to walk and give herself
time to pull together and adopt the fat smile of a professional
optimist.

A tired-faced woman, heavily rouged, was talking to another
tired-faced woman, also rouged. Mary listened because it was a relief
to listen to someone else besides herself, to realize there were other
persons in this world occupied with other problems besides a
commercial nun with a heartache, a tired cave man about to start
again, and a Gorgeous Girl defeated in no uncertain terms. The whole
thing was beyond Mary's comprehension just now; as much as the
graybeards' lack of understanding when they try to Freud the
schoolboy's mind.

"That's me, too, Mame, all over--and when she tried telling me she was
a natural blonde, never using lemon juice in even the last rinse
water--well, when you've been handing out doll dope and baby bluster
over the counter of a beauty department as long as I have you know
there ain't no such animal! Good-bye, Mame. I hope you get home
safe."

"There ain't no such animal," Mary found herself repeating. "No, there
sure ain't!"

There were no real commercial nuns; it was a premeditated affair
entirely, merely a comfortable phrase borrowed by the lonesome ones
unwilling to be called old maids; a big, brave bluff that women have
adopted during these times of commercial necessity and economic
stress. Commercial nuns! As foolish as the tales told children of the
wunks living in the coalbins--as if there ever could be such
creatures! The reason Mary would not marry Steve was because she,
Mary, did not want to disappoint him even as the Gorgeous Girl had
done. She did not want to be all helpmate, practical comrade; she had
fed herself with this delusion during the years of loneliness. She had
adopted the veneer, convinced herself that it was true, but she knew
now that it was false. It had taken a Gorgeous Girl to scratch beneath
the veneer in true