It's strange, you know--and funny at times--the way in which Life plays with us and forces us to act against our natural disposition. Take me, for instance. You wouldn't believe it now, knowing me, but when asked about my progress in school my schoolteachers used to shake their heads in silent sorrow. Not that I was feebleminded, mind you; I simply had other interests--girls, to mention but one--and couldn't be bothered with school. And look at me now...
Or take the case of my good friend, Herbert Gray.
Herbert was a quiet and gentle young man of about twenty-eight at the time the events that I am about to relate to you took place. He lived all alone in a small apartment and led a comfortable bachelor's life. He held a position of trust with a respectable bank, but scarcely an exciting one. His life was ordinary, and exceedingly boring--mostly due to his inability to reach a decision in any matter, be it a trivial or an important one. This character trait was well suited for his work at the bank, where he was required to follow instructions blindly and faithfully, and never to carry out any transaction that hadn't previously been authorized by his superiors. It was a great relief for him; for instance, to be able to tell Mr. Whatshisname that he would be happy to accept his check after the bank manager had endorsed it. Armed with his superior's signature he would carry out every operation, even the most complicated one, efficiently and intelligently.
His private life, on the other hand, had constantly suffered from his indecisiveness. A few months before this story begins, for instance, his love life had been shattered to pieces. This was when his girl-friend, Ann, had grown impatient at his clear desire to avoid talking turkey.
"Look, Herbert," she had spurted one day, "we've been dating for three years now. Isn't it time that we made up our minds whether this is going to be for life or not?"
"Yes, honey, but can't we think about this later?"
"When is later going to be? When I am a hundred?" she had retorted.
"It's just that I need some more time..."
"For what? Since our first date I've been deciding everything for both of us, even down to choosing the wine at dinner. I can live with that; but if you don't know by now that you love me enough to be wanting to marry me, then that's an answer too."
"It's not that at all, honey. Of course I love you. It's only that marriage is such a big step--"
"Is it Yes or No?" she had asked, menacingly.
"Let me think about it."
"Goodbye, Herbert," she had said quietly, and he hadn't seen her since.
Herbert had never felt as miserable as in the weeks that followed. He knew that the solution to his trouble was simple. He loved Ann and she loved him, and nothing stood in the way of their marriage. What could be simpler than knock on her door and ask her to marry him? Then everything would be right again, and they could live happily ever after. But he knew that these were only idle thoughts. He didn't stand a chance of ever making up his mind actually to marry her; the obstacle was insurmountable.
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