“And at Mr. Welby’s or at college,” proceeded Sir Peter, timorously, “was your acquaintance with females of the same kind?”
Kenelm shook his head. “Much worse: they were very naughty indeed at college.”
“I should think so, with such a lot of young fellows running after them.”
“Very few fellows run after the females. I mean—rather avoid them.”
“So much the better.”
“No, my father, so much the worse; without an intimate knowledge of those females there is little use going to college at all.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Every one who receives a classical education is introduced into their society,—Pyrrha and Lydia, Glycera and Corinna, and many more of the same sort; and then the females in Aristophanes, what do you say to them, sir?”
“Is it only females who lived two thousand or three thousand years ago, or more probably never lived at all, whose intimacy you have cultivated? Have you never admired any real women?”
“Real women! I never met one. Never met a woman who was not a sham, a sham from the moment she is told to be pretty-behaved, conceal her sentiments, and look fibs when she does not speak them. But if I am to learn sham life, I suppose I must put up with sham women.”