But the idea of approaching them
with my venture could not be taken seriously. The images of
Gitelson and of Gussie crossed my mind almost simultaneously. I
rejected them both. Gitelson and I might, perhaps, start
manufacturing on a small scale, leaving Chaikin out. But Chaikin
was the very soul of my project. Without him there was no life to
it. Besides, where was he, Gitelson? Was it worth while hunting
for him? As for Gussie, the notion of marrying her for her money
seemed a joke, even if she were better-looking and younger. That
her dower was anywhere near three thousand dollars was
exceedingly doubtful. However, the image of her washed-out face
would not leave my mind. Her hoarding might amount to over one
thousand, and in my despair the sum was tempting. "She is a good
girl, the best of all I know," I defended myself before the "Good
Spirit" in me.
"Also she is a most sensible girl. Just the kind of wife a business
man needs." In addition I urged the time-honored theory that a
homely wife is less likely to flirt with other men and to neglect
her duties than a good-looking one.
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