“He is born a tyrant; that I have always felt,” said Mrs. Emerson.  “You see it in a family of sisters and brothers.  The boys always attempt to rule their sisters, and if the latter do not submit, then comes discord and contention.”

“I have seen this, in hundreds of instances,” replied Mrs. Talbot.  “It was fully illustrated in my own case.  I had two brothers, who undertook to exercise their love of domineering on me.  But they did not find a passive subject—­no, not by any means.  I was never obedient to their will, for I had one of my own.  We made the house often a bedlam for our poor mother; but I never gave way—­no, not for an instant, come what might.  I had different stuff in me from that of common girls, and in time the boys were glad to let me alone.”

“Are your brothers living?” asked Mrs. Emerson.

“Yes.  One resides in New York, and the other in Boston.  One is a merchant, the other a physician.”

“How was it as you grew older?”

“About the same.  They are like nearly all men—­despisers of woman’s intellect.”

Irene sighed, and, letting her eyes fall to the floor, sat lost in thought for some moments.  The suggestions of her friend were not producing agreeable states of mind.

“They reject the doctrine of an equality in the sexes?” said Mrs. Emerson.

“Of course.  All men do that,” replied Mrs. Talbot.

“Your husband among the rest?”

“Talbot?  Oh, he’s well enough in his way!” The lady spoke lightly, tossing her head in a manner that involved both indifference and contempt.  “I never take him into account when discussing these matters.  That point was settled between us long and long ago.  We jog on without trouble.  Talbot thinks as I do about the women—­or pretends that he does, which is all the same.”

“A rare exception to the general run of husbands,” said Irene, thinking at the same time how immeasurably superior Mr. Emerson was to this weakling, and despising him in her heart for submitting to be ruled by a woman.  Thus nature and true perception spoke in her, even while she was seeking to blind herself by false reasonings.

“Yes, he’s a rare exception; and it’s well for us both that it is so.  If he were like your husband, for instance, one of us would have been before the legislature for a divorce within twelve months of our marriage night.”

“Like my husband!  What do you mean?” Mrs. Emerson drew herself up, with half real and half affected surprise.

“Oh, he’s one of your men who have positive qualities about them—­strong in intellect and will.”

Irene felt pleased with the compliment bestowed upon her husband.

“But wrong in his ideas of woman.”

“How do you know?” asked Irene.

“How do I know?  As I know all men with whom I come in contact.  I probe them.”

“And you have probed my husband?”

“Undoubtedly.”