" When the father
left the little children destitute, when the mother ran away with the
other man, or the jealous wife shot the other woman, Georgia was always
right on the spot because they said she was so clever at that sort of
thing. "Oh it makes one just _crazy_ to get married," she had said,
witheringly, to Joe one night.
Why did he want to marry her, anyway? When she _told_ him she didn't want
to--wasn't that enough? Was it respectful to treat her refusal as though
it were a subtle kind of joke? Various nice boys had wanted at various
times to marry her, and she had always explained to them that it was
impossible, and sent them, more or less cheerfully, on their various
ways. But this man who made paper bags, this jolly, good-natured,
seemingly easy-going fellow, who held that the most important thing in
the world was for her, Georgia, to have a good time, only seemed much
amused at the idea of her not having time to marry him, and when she told
him, with just as much conviction as she had ever told any of the others,
that he had better begin looking around for some one else, he would
reply, "All right--sure," and would straightway ask where she wished to
go for dinner that night or whether she preferred an automobile ride to a
spin in his new motor boat.
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