“And, I say,” returned Mrs. Tallboys, “that man has used brute force to cramp woman’s intellect and energy so long, that she has learnt to acquiesce in her position, and to abstain from exerting herself, so that it is only where she is partially emancipated, as in my own country, that any idea of her powers can be gained.”

“I am afraid,” said Julius, “that more may be lost to the world than is gained!  No; I am not speaking from the tyrant point of view.  I am thinking whether free friction with the world way not lessen that sweetness and tender innocence and purity that make a man’s home an ideal and a sanctuary—­his best earthly influence.”

“This is only sentiment.  Innocence is worthless if it cannot stand alone and protect itself!” said Mrs. Tallboys.

“I do not mean innocence unable to stand alone.  It should be strong and trustworthy, but should have the bloom on it still, not rubbed off by contact or knowledge of evil.  Desire of shielding that bloom from the slightest breath of contamination is no small motive for self-restraint, and therefore a great preservative to most men.”

“Women purify the atmosphere wherever they go,” said the lady.

“Many women do,” returned Julius; “but will they retain that power universally if they succeed in obtaining a position where there will be less consideration for them, and they must be exposed to a certain hardening and roughening process?”

“If so,” exclaimed Mrs. Tallboys, “if men are so base, we would soon assert ourselves.  We are no frail morning glories for you to guard and worship with restraint, lest forsooth your natural breath should wither us away.”

As she spoke the door opened, and, with a strong reek of tobacco, in came the two other gentlemen.  “Well, Rector, have you given in?” asked the Captain.  “Is Lady Rosamond to mount the pulpit henceforth?”

“Ah! wouldn’t I preach you a sermon,” returned Rosamond.

“To resume,” said Mrs. Tallboys, sitting very upright.  “You still go on the old assumption that woman was made for you.  It is all the same story:  one man says she is for his pleasure, another for his servant, and you, for—­for his refinement.  You would all have us adjectives.  Now I defy you to prove that woman is not a substantive, created for herself.”

“If you said ‘growed,’ Mrs. Tallboys, it would be more consistent,” said Jenny.  “Her creation and her purpose in the world stand upon precisely the same authority.”

“I wonder at you, Miss Bowater,” said Mrs. Tallboys.  “I cannot understand a woman trying to depreciate her sex.”

“No,” thrust in Gussie Moy; “I want to know why a woman can’t go about without a dowager waddling after her” ("Thank you,” breathed Lady Tyrrell into Herbert’s ear), “nor go to a club.”

“There was such a club proposed in London,” said Captain Duncombe, “and do you know, Gussie, the name of it?”