We are not cynical

She had been married once or twice and lived among
the rich, that was what happened to air hostesses when
there was a frisson about this job.

Her last husband came from Amsterdam, a doyen of
the fur trade, elegantly dressed, and a walking stick
With a stick, one assumes he was quite elderly.

He had bought her a flat with many rooms, too many
one of lesser background would think, then to her 
surprise, he suddenly died

So what was a girl to do, sitting with a flat not all
paid for, sensibly, she rented out the flat to people 
Who could pay and keep the heating on come winter

Then she met her final man just as her legs were
getting tired, he would do, she thought he had a car
and doesn't bother about a high-flying life

Thus, a love story blossomed, if not a lady and a trap
Yet, a love story of a sort, he needs her to do the talking
So he can sit in his room and write