nounce the frivolous pleasures of the telephone switchboard and enter matrimony.
I accepted the lace, which drove Hazel Killian wild with envy, but on the wedding bells I claimed exemption. I liked Guy, but I was by no means in love with him—or with anyone else! From what I'd been able to observe from my perch at the St. Moe switchboard, there was a bit too much "moan" in matrimony, really!
I meet five hundred representatives of the sillier sex every day, and treat 'em all with equal chilly politeness till they get out of line. Then I turn off the politeness, just giving 'em the chill, and honest, when I want to be cold—which is generally—I'd turn a four-alarm fire into an iceberg with a glance!
Well, Guy Tower hadn't been back in the St. Moe a week when he began showering attentions on me from the point where he left off before he sailed away. Honestly, he dinnered and theatered me silly! Hazel watched me carelessly toy with this good-looking young gold mine with unconcealed feelings of covetousness. She simply couldn't understand why I didn't grab this boon from Heaven and marry him while he was stupefied with my charms. Hazel is no eyesore herself and suffered from a lifelong ambition to become a bird in a gilded cage. She craved a millionaire, and in desperation she offered to match coins with me for Guy, but I indignantly refused. I know Hazel—she's
