They began their inspection. Mma Makutsi said nothing, but glowered with resentment. She had rarely come across so ill-mannered a man as this Clarkson Putumelo, and she wondered how Phuti Radiphuti could possibly have selected him. But then men do not see things the same way we do, she thought. They have different eyes. Men have different eyes. It was a very appropriate observation, she decided, and she would write it down and pass it on to Mma Ramotswe for future use, perhaps, when sayings of this nature would be required, which she knew from experience could be at any time.

CHAPTER FOUR

I SHALL SIMPLY LOOK UP IN THE SKY

MMA MAKUTSI GAVE Mma Ramotswe a full account of her meeting with Mr. Clarkson Putumelo, sparing no detail of the insulting way in which he had treated her.

“He was very attentive to Phuti,” she said. “All the time, he looked at Phuti and not at me. He never noticed nor spoke to me. I am not exaggerating this, Mma Ramotswe—it is as if I wasn’t there.” She paused, her anger mounting at the recollection of the humiliating encounter. “It was as if I was … some nothing, just some nothing.”

Mma Ramotswe looked sympathetic. “There have always been men like that, Mma. Fortunately, there are fewer of them than there used to be. But there are still some, and this Putumelo must be one of them.”

Mma Makutsi now asked what made these men behave in such a way. Were they like that because they had been badly treated by a woman at some point? Or were they like that because … She tried to think of another explanation, but could not. How could anybody ignore the other half of humanity? And did they behave like that to their wives? she asked Mma Ramotswe. Phuti had met Mma Putumelo when she had come into the furniture store to test the sofa, so she knew that Mr. Putumelo was married. Did the poor woman have to put up with being ignored in that astonishingly rude manner? What would it be like to sit down for breakfast with a man who never spoke to you but instead looked over your shoulder as if you were not even there?

“He will be a small man inside,” said Mma Ramotswe. “He will feel small and unimportant. That is why he needs to put ladies down, Mma. Men who are big inside never feel the need to do that.”

She was right, thought Mma Makutsi. Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni was one of those men who were large inside—kind and generous, and strong too—and he was never anything but courteous in his dealings with women, and with men too, for that matter.

“So what I suggest, Mma,” Mma Ramotswe continued, “is that you don’t let this man annoy you. Just ignore his bad manners.”