DEAR SIR, OR MADAM,
I trust you will observe and appreciate the discreet ambiguity of
style with which I have chosen to address you. I may assure you at
once that I have done this not without considerable thought. For,
though I have often watched you in the exercise of your energies, I
have never yet been able to satisfy myself as to whether I ought to
class you amongst our rougher sex, or include you in the ranks of
those who wear high heels, and very low dresses. Sometimes you fix
your place of business in a breast adequately covered by a stiff and
shining shirt-front and a well-cut waistcoat. Sometimes you inhabit
the expansive bosom of a matron. Nor do you confine yourself to one
class alone out of the many that go to the composition of our social
life. You have impelled grocers to ludicrous pitches of absurdity;
you have driven the wife of a working-man to distraction because her
neighbour's front room possesses a more expensive carpet, of a sprucer
pattern than her own. Clerks have suffered acutely from your stings,
and actresses have spent many a sleepless night under your malign
influence.
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