"In a thousand men of genius, how many mad relations?" asked the colonel.
"I can't tell you, sir," said the doctor.
"You can talk nonsense to your heart's content, doctor," said Major Parker. "But as far as I am concerned, if I ever marry, I shall only marry a very pretty woman. What's the name of that charming cinema actress we saw together at Hazebrouck, Aurelle?
"Napierkowska, sir."
"Oh yes. Well, if I knew her I would marry her at once. And I am sure that she is if anything better and more intelligent than the average woman."
"My friend Shaw," said the doctor, "says that to desire to be perpetually in the society of a pretty woman, until the end of one's days, is as if, because one likes good wine, one wished always to have one's mouth full of it."
"Rather a flimsy argument," observed the major. "For surely that is better than having it always full of bad wine."
"Anyhow," the doctor replied, "women who exhibit more surely than us the underlying instincts of mankind are far from bearing out your theory; I know very few who make a point of marrying a good-looking man."
"Well, do you know the story about Frazer?" said the major.
"Which Frazer?" said the colonel. "G.R. of the 60th?"