"That must depend on Mr. Trevelyan," said Priscilla.
"What a life for two women to lead;—to depend upon the caprice of a man who must be mad! Do you think that Mr. Trevelyan will care for what your brother says to him?"
"I do not know Mr. Trevelyan."
"He is very fond of your brother, and I suppose men friends do listen to each other. They never seem to listen to women. Don't you think that, after all, they despise women? They look on them as dainty, foolish things."
"Sometimes women despise men," said Priscilla.
"Not very often;—do they? And then women are so dependent on men. A woman can get nothing without a man."
"I manage to get on somehow," said Priscilla.
"No, you don't, Miss Stanbury,—if you think of it. You want mutton. And who kills the sheep?"
"But who cooks it?"
"But the men-cooks are the best," said Nora; "and the men-tailors, and the men to wait at table, and the men-poets, and the men-painters, and the men-nurses. All the things that women do, men do better."