To-morrow I shall be an Old Maid. What a trying thing to have to
say even to one's self, and how vexed I should be if anybody else
said it to me! Nevertheless, it is a comfort to be brutally honest
once in a while to myself. I do not dare, I do not care, to be so
to everybody. But with my own self, I can feel that it is strictly
a family affair. If I hurt my feelings, I can grieve over it until
I apologize. If I flatter myself, I am only doing what every other
woman in the world is doing in her innermost consciousness, and
flattery as honest as flattery from one's own self naturally would
be could not fail to please me. Besides, it would have the unique
value of being believed by both sides-a situation in the flattery
line which I fancy has no rival. It is well to become acquainted
with one's self at all hazards, and as I am going to be my own
partner in the rubber of life, I can do nothing better than to
study my own hand.
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