The Most Dangerous Woman in The World

A Symposium of Experts on How a Man's Fortune May Soonest Be Dissipated

FERENC MOLNAR

SCENE: The club of some of the country's wealthiest men. The members are so rich that they are bored by their money. They are owners of gigantic industrial plants, banks, shipping concerns, estates and ancestral fortunes. Their wealth is so vast that they are never perturbed by irritating telegrams from their political agents or stock brokers. Their money is so wisely invested that neither war nor economic crisis, strike nor political upheaval, can have the slightest effect on it.

One of them remarks:

"I have nothing to fear. The way my money is invested reminds me of a centipede. Let twenty of its feet be cut away, there arc still eighty left on which it balances and moves with perfect case."

The others nod. Their approval means more than mere acquiescence in the efficacy of his method. It means particularly that they have protected their fortunes in exactly the same way.

Another adds:

"But there is nothing like a woman to ruin great fortunes,—even those which cannot possibly be destroyed by anything else."

All nod. This again indicates not simply recognition of the speaker's wisdom—but specifically that woman is the one danger still at large in the world.

"Suppose," says one of the party, "that we try to determine the type which may safely be called the most dangerous woman for a man, financially."

A voice:

"How shall we proceed:"

"Very simply. Those of us who have found ourselves involved with amazingly extravagant women will adjourn to the next room. Myself, for one. We will exchange experiences and award a prize to the man who convinces us that the woman he describes represents the greatest danger to the fortune of any man who loves her."

General excitement. Six gentlemen retire into the next room. On the table, in the centre of the room, is placed the prize: a box of cigars.

The debate begins. Here arc the minutes of the session:

The Woman Who Throws Money Away

"The woman I knew could never tell me, at night, what had become of the money I had given her in the morning. She bought trifles and promptly lost them. She pressed loans on her friends. She gave extravagant tips. She brought home stray waifs to dinner. She donated great sums to charities, and could never pass a beggar on the street. Banknotes fluttered to her feet every time she pulled a handkerchief or a powder puff out of her bag. The bills she lost in the streets would have constituted a handsome income for any poor family. She could never remember spending much money on any single thing, and yet night after night she came home penniless. At the end of a year I discovered that she had actually imperiled my financial situation." An elderly, bald-headed man, seated by himself in a corner of the room, spoke up:

"That's nothing. Many men are rich enough to stand that."

The Woman Who Adores Clothes

The second speaker began: "The woman I loved adored beautiful gowns, wraps, hats, furs, shoes, lingerie. All the expensive ateliers of Paris worked for her. I had to employ a secretarial force to handle the correspondence relating to her clothes. I had a special treasurer to pay her bills. She spent so much money that I got a serious attack of neuralgia and was forced to retire to a sanitarium."

The little bald-headed man spoke up again:

"That wasn't particularly serious, because it had its limits. Three gowns a day—1095 gowns a year; three pairs of stockings a day— I 095 pairs of stockings a year, and so on. There is a limit beyond which no woman can possibly go. WQ figure out the limit and arrange our budget accordingly. A really cautious man need not be afraid of a woman's passion for clothes."

The Woman Who Demands Jewelry

"All the great diamonds and beautiful emeralds ..." began the third man.

But the little bald-headed man interrupted him immediately.

"One can put up with even such a woman, although I admit that she is more dangerous than the first two. But there is a limit in this case, also. The limit: the human body. A woman—no matter how much she loves tiaras —has only one head. As for ear-rings—thank God she has but two ears. She has only two arms for bracelets, and only ten fingers for rings. And these ten fingers arc not so long that a really rich man should fret about covering them from knuckle to nail, if necessary. The length of the throat limits the number of necklaces. In view of the inexplicable fact that our women have not as yet adopted the African custom of suspending jewelry from their noses and their lips, the possibility of spending money seems to me definitely limited. I won't deny that such a woman represents a financial danger, but as soon as you have covered her with jewelry from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, she is sated, and you have a chance to recuperate."

The Woman Who Gambles

"My wife," began the fourth man, "was a passionate gambler."

"That's enough!" the little bald-headed man interrupted again. "Don't go on! The danger of a gambling woman is minimized by the incontrovertible fact that no gambler can escape winning once in a while, no matter how unlucky she is. She cannot be called a dangerous woman at all!"

The Woman Who Loves Her Family

"The woman I loved," the fifth said, "came of a poor, but prolific family. She adored her relatives and wanted to make every one of them happy and rich,—at my expense, of course."

The bald-headed man interrupted him too.

"How many relatives did she have?"

"Sixty-six."

"There!" he cried angrily. "Limited again. And when all the sixty-six relatives were happy and rich and contented, your torments were over. That was what happened, wasn't it?"

"Yes, l suppose you arc right. When each uncle and aunt had a beautifully furnished mansion and an assured income, my wife embraced me gratefully, and I started out with redoubled energy to make more money."

The little bald-headed man laughed aloud:

"And you dare call her a dangerous woman ! ' The Prize Winner

The five contestants who had spoken turned somewhat peevishly towards the little bald headed man:

"Now that you've rejected all our candidates for the prize, and sneered at us, suppose you tell us the most dangerous type of woman."

The little old man left his corner, walked calmly up to the table and placed his hand on the box of cigars.

"Have a cigar, gentlemen! I win! How? Look at my bald head. My hair fell out on account of a woman. You know my life. I was one of the richest men in this country, and ten years ago l lost every cent I had. Why? Because of a woman. Allow me to introduce to you, gentlemen, the most dangerous woman of all. I know her. She ruined me."

"What was her passion?" the others asked.

"Thrift!" answered the little bald-headed man while tears stood in his eyes. "Gentlemen, the most dangerous woman on earth is the thrifty one. The woman who puts all her money in the bank. The woman who deposits the money I give her for a new hat. The woman who goes without food in order to save money. The woman who hurries to the bank early every morning to deposit what she has stored away during the previous day."

He went on, weeping:

"Gentlemen, the woman who does not know what she has done with your money is endurable. The woman who adores gowns is satisfied with a thousand gowns. The woman who admires jewelry may be covered with diamonds. The woman who gambles may win occasionally. The woman who helps her family may be satisfied. But, gentlemen, is there any limit to the capacity of a bank? When docs a bank urge its clients to stop saving? What is the limit of a bank-account? When a thrifty woman goes into a bank she stands face to face with the infinite. You may drain the ocean with a spoon if you have patience enough. But what is such patience compared to the patience with which a bank accepts money? Is there a maximum? Is there a limit? Is there any end? What can one hope for? God save every man from a thrifty, a passionately thrifty, woman! "

He stopped. Silently, each plutocrat lighted a cigar. This ceremonial gesture constituted the unanimous, if silent, awarding of the prize.