“Exactly, and you jolly well please your heart.”
“Not at all,” said Bagot, “I——”
“I imagine you could do better than serve the Harps. I mean, you weren’t born or bred to fix parlours, but, because you’re mad about Chancery, you just do.”
This was unanswerable.
After a moment’s reflection—
“A male man,” said Willoughby, “can shift for himself. If he likes to buy trouble, he can. He can always get through.”
“And what,” said Spring, ignoring his careful evasion, “what about my suggestion that you should marry a wife? You wiped the floor with it. But the instant the position is reversed, I must swallow my feelings and follow my head. What if you are a man? Men aren’t immune from sickness. Don’t say that you’ve got William, or I shall scream. If William’s as good a nurse as he is a seamstress, you wouldn’t live twenty-four hours. And look at the women there are who are up against it. They don’t go under because they’re not on concrete.”
“I don’t suggest that you would. But some of the roads of Life are pretty bad. If one can avoid the roughest, it’s—it’s just as well. Spares the frame, you know.”
“Don’t I look strong?”
“You do. I’m sure you’re as hard as nails, but nobody’s any the better for being hammered.”