I never have been able to make up my mind whether ideal love was the best, or if love with a great deal of common-sense in it was not the most philosophical and better in the long-run.  But to those of us who are romantic it is fearful to think of deliberately turning our backs on terrapin and lobster and ice-cream, and meditating upon plain bread and cold potatoes.  You men do not recognize the romantic streak which, of more or less breadth and thickness, runs through every woman, making her love good love-making.  You are so terribly practical and common-sense and every-day.  We girls like flowers, and mental indigestibles, and occasional Sundays.  We do not know why we do, but we do, and we cannot help it, and if you are going to make love according to Hoyle you must recognize this fact, and pamper us in our folly.  Don’t we pamper you?

Now I know perfectly well how some of you are going to work at it.  You will begin by thinking, “Yes, that’s true.  I’ve got a girl like that, and, by Jove, I’ll humor her!” Bless your dear hearts!  Your intentions are always of the best.  If only you knew how to carry them out!  But the first time you come across a little unreasonable, sentimental folly of hers, you will take her hand in yours and say, “Yes, dear, I understand just what you mean.  I know exactly how you feel on the subject, and I am perfectly willing to do what you want me to.  But, don’t you see, if I do, it would look just a little queer to mother”—­(or the boys, or the other fellows, or to Jessie and the girls, or to—­you may insert the name for yourself)—­“and, while I want to please you, I hardly think that is quite the way to go about it; so, if you will be the dear, sensible little woman that you always are, we will simply take a nice little walk, instead of going to Europe, and I will try to make it just as enjoyable to you.  You know I shall be with you, darling, and haven’t you often said that you were perfectly happy wherever I was?” And darling will begin a weak argument in favor of her little unreasonable, sentimental whim represented by “Europe,” although she sees that your mind is made up.  But you have seen her weaken at your smooth talk, and you give her some more; and if that doesn’t do, why, you kiss her, and then she’s gone.  And before you leave her she has assured you that she really would “just as soon” or “much rather” take a walk than go to Europe; and you come out whistling and thinking what a dear little thing she is, and how much you love her.  Oh, you have won!  Nobody denies that; but look at your partners face if you want to know how you have done it.

Why didn’t you do as you said you were going to?  Why didn’t you do it her way?  Why don’t you study your sweetheart, and learn to know her, and to know the real woman—­the side she never shows to you nowadays Because, just as soon as she sees your way of doing, she is going to hunt up a new way of managing you.  It is all your own fault that you are managed (as you all know you are), and your fault that you get pale-gray truth instead of the pure white.  It starts out pure white, but it is doctored before it reaches you.