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224 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published April 26, 1962
. . .when I looked through the one-way glass panel of the front door and saw her out on the stoop, my basic feelings about the opposite sex were hurt. Granting that women can’t stay young and beautiful forever, that the years are bound to show, at least they don’t have to let their gray hair straggle over their ears or wear a coat with a button missing or forget to wash their face, and this specimen was guilty on all three counts. So, as she put a finger to the button and the bell rang, I opened the door and told her, “I don’t want any, thanks. Try next door.“ I admit it was rude.
“I would have once, Buster,“ she said. “Thirty years ago I was a real treat.“
I took [the package] because I liked her. She had fine instincts and no sense at all. She had refused to tell me what was in it, and was leaving it with me and telling me not to open it – my idea of a true woman if only she would comb her hair and wash her face and sew a button on.