According to geometry, “things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other,” and it would seem, from the standpoint of pure reason, that people who are fond of the same people would naturally be congenial and take pleasure in being together.

But a sensitive spinster is often grieved when she discovers that her men friends do not readily assimilate.  If she leaves two of them to entertain each other, the conversation does not flow with desirable spontaneity.  There is no lack of courtesy between them, however, even of that finer sort which keeps them both there, lest one, by leaving, should seem to remind his companion that it was late.

On the contrary, if a man is fond of two different girls, they are seldom to be seen apart.  They exchange long visits regularly and this thoughtfulness often saves him from making an extra call.

[Sidenote:  A Happy Triumvirate]

A happy triumvirate is thus formed and the claws of it do not show.  Sometimes it is hard to decide between them, and he cuts the Gordian knot by marrying someone else, but the friendship is never the same afterward.  The girls are no longer boon companions and when the man crosses their paths, they manage to convey the impression of great distance.

[Sidenote:  Narrowed Down to Two]

In the beginning, almost any number may join in the game, but the inevitable process of selection eventually narrows it down to two.  Society has given men a little the best of it, but perhaps woman’s finer sight compensates her for the apparent disadvantages—­and even Love, who deals the cards, is too blind to see the fatal consequences of his mistakes.

The Natural History of Proposals

[Illustration]

The Natural History of Proposals

[Sidenote:  The Inquiring Spinster]

There is no subject which presents more difficulties to the inquiring spinster.  Contemporary spinsters, when approached upon the topic, are anything but encouraging; apparently lacking the ability to distinguish between impertinent intrusion into their personal affairs and the scientific spirit which prompts the collection of statistics.

Married women, when asked to repeat the exact language of the lover at the happy moment, are wont to transfix the sensitive aspirant for knowledge with lofty scorn.  Mothers are accustomed to dissemble and say they “have forgotten.”  Men in general are uncommunicative, though occasionally some rare soul will expand under the influence of food and freely give more valuable information than can be extracted from an indefinite number of women.

One’s own experience is naturally limited, even though proposals constitute the main joy and excitement of the spinster’s monotonous life.  Emerson says:  “All is sour if seen as experience,” though the gentle sage was not referring especially to offers of marriage.  Nevertheless, there is a charm about other people’s affairs which would render life beautiful indeed if it could be added to one’s own.