“That,” said Mr. Crewe, indulgently, “is a woman’s point of view.  A man cannot dally through life, and your kind of woman has no use for a man who dallies.  First, I will give you my idea of a woman.”

“I am all attention,” said Victoria.

“Well,” said Mr. Crewe, putting the tops of his fingers together, “she should excel as a housewife.  I haven’t any use for your so-called intellectual woman.  Of course, what I mean by a housewife is something a little less bourgeoise; she should be able to conduct an establishment with the neatness and despatch and economy of a well-run hotel.  She should be able to seat a table instantly and accurately, giving to the prominent guests the prestige they deserve.  Nor have I any sympathy with the notion that makes a married woman a law unto herself.  She enters voluntarily into an agreement whereby she puts herself under the control of her husband:  his interests, his career, his—­”

“Comfort?” suggested Victoria.

“Yes, his comfort—­all that comes first.  And his establishment is conducted primarily, and his guests selected, in the interests of his fortunes.  Of course, that goes without saying of a man in high place in public life.  But he must choose for his wife a woman who is equal to all these things,—­to my mind her highest achievement,—­who makes the most of the position he gives her, presides at his table and entertainments, and reaches such people as, for any reason, he is unable to reach.  I have taken the pains to point out these things in a general way, for obvious reasons.  My greatest desire is to be fair.”

“What,” asked Victoria, with her eyes on the river, “what are the wages?”

Mr. Crewe laughed.  Incidentally, he thought her profile very fine.

“I do not believe in flattery,” he said, “but I think I should add to the qualifications personality and a sense of humour.  I am quite sure I could never live with a woman—­who didn’t have a sense of humour.”

“I should think it would be a little difficult,” said Victoria, “to get a woman with the qualifications you enumerate and a sense of humour thrown in.”

“Infinitely difficult,” declared Mr. Crewe, with more ardour than he had yet shown.  “I have waited a good many years, Victoria.”

“And yet,” she said, “you have been happy.  You have a perpetual source of enjoyment denied to some people.”

“What is that?” he asked.  It is natural for a man to like to hear the points of his character discussed by a discerning woman.

“Yourself,” said Victoria, suddenly looking him full in the face.  “You are complete, Humphrey, as it is.  You are happily married already.  Besides,” she added, laughing a little, “the qualities you have mentioned—­with the exception of the sense of humour—­are not those of a wife, but of a business partner of the opposite sex.  What you really want is a business partner with something like a fifth interest, and whose name shall not appear in the agreement.”