Part 3 (1/2)
”I haven't been getting much joy out of this particular case myself,”
grumbled Murray, but he went along.
The moment he reached home, Beckford rushed to his wife's room.
”It's all a mistake!” he exclaimed joyfully. ”You-you mustn't cry any more, dearest, for it's all right now. Mr. Murray didn't understand at first-thought you were one of these capricious, careless, thoughtless women that do all sorts of absurd and foolish things on impulse-but he knows better now. There aren't any more restrictions for you than for me, and he's waiting in the parlor to take your application for all the insurance you want.”
”Really?” she asked, as the sobs began to subside.
”Really.”
”And there isn't anything the matter with me?”
”Of course not, sweetheart.”
”Well,” she said, after a pause, ”I can't see him now, because my eyes are all red, but I wish he'd write that out for me. I'd feel so much more comfortable.”
”Indeed he will,” a.s.serted Beckford, ”and we can fill out the application in here, and I'll take it back to him.”
Hopefully and happily the young husband returned to Murray and told him what was wanted. Murray sighed dismally. He had missed his dinner for a woman's whim, and the woman was merely humiliating him. Still, he felt in a measure responsible for the trouble; he ought never to have resorted to duplicity, even for so laudable a purpose. So he wrote the following: ”Investigation has convinced me that the restrictions mentioned this afternoon are unnecessary in your case, and I shall be glad to have your application for insurance on the same terms as your husband's.”
Mrs. Beckford read this over carefully. Then she read the application blank with equal care. After that she wrote at the bottom of the note: ”Insurance has almost given me nervous prostration now, and I don't want to have anything more to do with it. If Harry can stand the strain, let him have it all.”
”Give him that, Harry,” she said, ”and get rid of him as soon as possible, for I want you to come back and comfort me. I'm completely upset.”
Murray lit a cigar when he reached the street, and puffed at it meditatively as he walked in the direction of the nearest street-car line.
”What's the matter with nervous prostration for me?” he muttered. ”One more effort to defeat a woman who is fighting against her own interests will make me an impossible risk in any company; two more will land me in a sanatorium.”
AN INCIDENTAL QUESTION
Dave Murray, general agent, leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at the young man before him.
”So you have run up against an unanswerable argument?” he remarked.
”It seems so to me,” said the inexperienced Owen Ross.
”My dear boy,” a.s.serted Murray, ”in the life insurance business the only unanswerable argument is a physician's report that the applicant is not a good risk. What is the particular thing that has put you down and out?”
”Faith,” replied the young man; ”just plain faith in the Almighty.
Perhaps, some time in your career, you have run across a religious enthusiast who considers it a reflection on the all-seeing wisdom of the Almighty to take any measures for his own protection or the protection of his family.”
”I have,” admitted Murray, ”but generally it has been a woman.”
”This is a man,” said Ross; ”a sincere, devout man. If he were a hypocrite, it would be different, but it is a matter of religious conviction-a principle of faith-with him to trust in the Lord. Life insurance he considers almost sacrilegious-an evidence of man's doubt in the wisdom of his Maker, and an attempt, in his puny insignificant way, to interfere with the plans of the Great Master. To all arguments he replies, 'The Lord will provide for His children.'”
”And you consider that unanswerable?” asked Murray.
”In his case, yes. Even his wife is unable to move him, although she wants insurance as a provision for the future of the children and was instrumental in getting me to talk to him. How would you answer such a contention as that?”