"AFRAID-TO-MARRY" GIRIS.

Press, Volume LIV, Issue 16171, 27 March 1918, Page 8

"AFRAID-TO-MARRY" GIRIS.

TOO PROSPEROUS

The war has evolved a new typ>» of girl—the girl who is afraid to marry. You meet her mostly in the cities. She is attractive, knows how to wear hep clothes, how to dress hor hair, keeps her hands nice, has a bright, intelligent smile, can choose a good dinner for herself, can interest"as well as amuse you, knows the newest books and plays, and leaTes you with the impression that she is "a thoroughly good sort." She is. She is a good work or, has personality, uses her brains, is anywhere between eighteen and thirty years of age, and earns from two to ten pounds a week. But she is afraid to marry. Her salary holds her back. The "selfish bachelor" of other days, who now receives his one-and-sixpenco a day as a "Tommy" or has marriod and makes ends meet on one or two "pips," has been supplanted in civil life by his sister. And .she has taken ;iinto herselt his old philosophy, revels in the comforts her cash can bring her, appreciates well-cut clothes, good food, the independence and oonfidence that _ the knowledge of a passable income gives, and values hor snujr And she fears to lose it all by marriage. Here are samples of the new type: Jess, 18, earns £2 a week easily; if she caro3 to "make a changc'' 6ho can increase it. Phyllis draws £4 at congenial ten-till-five work; Ruby, with her bank overtime, nets a cool £6 weekly; Mary raises her eyebrows if her envelope contains less than £3; and No rah earns £500 a year.

These are not exceptional cases. Educated girls in the twenties are earning excellent salaries in these day 6. One can meet them everywhere as heads of departments, secretaries, overseers, organisers, in all branches or commerce. They remain quite feminine notwithstanding their ntw importance as wageearners. Their society is sought after. You will see them in th e theatre", the restaurants, with their knaki and. blue escorts. And being very lovable, bright creatures, the jolly companionship often merges into something deeper on the side of the man. Atoil 1 , so it would on the side ot the girl if it were not for that salary or hers. Being a woman, she thinks it all out beforehand —so2s the tiny house or small flat that would be hers, the curtailment of her present pleasures, tho monotonous round of cookery anu housework, the extra responsibility, tha gradual dropping out of many desirable friendships, and, growing afraid, she says to the man, frankly, "ies, I m fonder of you tlian of anyone else, but! —don't let us talk about marriage.'' And in tho morning she says to her girl chum, "He really is tho dearest fellow, but —no money!" And the friend shrugs her shoulders understandingly, sighs sympathetically, and wonders" not at all. Their point of view is easy to understand. The charm o" their newly-won independence is very great. The bachelor man can marry when he will; tho position of the bachelor girl is different. The years will steal her charm and opportunities. And this fear, this unwillingness to leave the present gilded paths of single irresponsibility, is leading her into the years when she will have no choice but to tread them alone for all lier days, when the delights that please her to-day will have lost their savour, when loneliness will have replaced high spirits. To some wno have thought it out, even this is preferable to the othor picture they conjure up. But others will find later that the cherished lrresponsibilitv and indcpendonco have been secured at the cost of a woman's heritage —that thev have sold.their birthright for a starved heart.— By Hilda M. Love, in London '"Daily Mail. '