Regiment of Women by Thomas Berger

issues. How could the President, for example, cope with international problems if she were personally vulnerable to every little slight, real or imagined? You must admit, if you are honest, that the fundamental concern of a man is his own vanity.” Harry smiled. “Now, of course, that, or rather what comes from it, can be charming, so charming, in fact, that it can even lure certain women from the stern path of duty—”
    Cornell frowned. “I’ve never managed that,” he said. “I’ve read about it in novels or seen it in pictures, but in life I can’t recall distracting a woman for more than fifteen minutes. Or maybe I’ve always met the wrong ones. Raving egomaniacs, most of them. You listen to them talk about their work and politics and sports and their bank accounts and their fascinating friends—whom, by the way, you never meet, any more than you get access to their bank accounts—and then you try to talk about what interests you or even about your troubles, I mean, you can be in the most distress, and what do they do? Listen? No, they begin to paw you.”
    He restrained himself. He was getting too bitter.
    â€œWomen, Harry,” he said, “are by nature very selfish people.”
    For some reason Harry’s genial smile broadened into almost a laugh. Then he quickly straightened his mouth to say: “Well, I’m just acting as devil’s advocate here. We should know our enemy—that’s my motto.”
    â€œEnemy?” asked Cornell. “That’s a bit strong, isn’t it? They certainly can be painful, but then so can one’s fellow men. One thing can’t be said of most women: they’re not spiteful or backbiting. And then if you think of it, what’s the alternative? What kind of world would it be if men ran it? Mary!”
    Harry squinted at him. “You’re talking treason to the cause, now, aren’t you? Isn’t that what your bunch wants? ‘Power to the men!’” He balled and raised his little fist.
    Cornell said quietly: “There you go again, Harry. You’re doing it again. I’m just not going to argue any more. If you insist on calling me a male-liberation revolutionary, in spite of my protestations to the contrary, what can I do? It’s impossible to prove you’re not something. I just hope the court is not as stubborn as you.”
    Harry smiled again. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that you don’t seem all that upset by the accusation.”
    â€œI try to control my emotions,” said Cornell. “I used to get hysterical a lot when I was younger, but that sort of thing ages you rapidly. I’m going to be thirty soon. I have to get some dignity to replace my lost youth.”
    He stared at Harry. “One of those detectives you mentioned said I was a cool customer…. How did you know I was a head taller than either of them?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou mentioned the detectives.”
    â€œOh. Well, they brought you in here last night, didn’t they?”
    â€œI was unconscious.”
    â€œYeah, and they took off your clothes and put you in the uniform. They looked like rough customers. I pretended to be asleep.”
    â€œDid you see them give me the truth-serum shot?”
    â€œI imagine you got that at the precinct station.”
    â€œWas I talking when they brought me in here?”
    Harry shrugged. “Well, yeah. I heard the name ‘Charlie,’ to be honest.”
    â€œOh, Mary.”
    â€œYou couldn’t help it,” Harry said sympathetically. “You probably named the others, too.”
    â€œPoor Charlie,” Cornell groaned. “I wish I could be sure, though. There are lots of Charlies.”
    â€œCharlie Harrison. He works at your company,” Harry said.
    â€œI just told you that.”
    â€œYou said it last night, too,” Harry replied quickly. “I was just