Indeed, she hardly considered it that. The sex side of her
was being repressed with the artist side. Most men found
her curt, brisk, businesslike manner a little repellent,
though interesting. They never made love to her, in spite
of her undeniable attractiveness. Fascinating Facts drove
her about in his smart little roadster and one night he
established himself in her memory forever as the first man
who had ever asked her to marry him. He did it haltingly,
painfully, almost grudgingly. Fanny was frankly amazed.
She had enjoyed going about with him. He rested and soothed
her. He, in turn, had been stimulated by her energy, her
humor, her electric force. Nothing was said for a minute
after his awkward declaration.
"But," he persisted, "you like me, don't you?"
"Of course I do. Immensely."
"Then why?"
"When a woman of my sort marries it's a miracle. I'm
twenty-six, and intelligent and very successful. A
frightful combination. Unmarried women of my type
aren't content just to feel. They must analyze their
feelings.
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