'Why? Why do they?' Vida demanded, laughing. 'Nobody ever tells me why. I can't believe they're as unselfish as you make out.'
'I!'
'You ought to admire them if they voluntarily give up all those beautiful things—knowing beforehand they'll only win men's scorn. For you've always warned them!'
He didn't even hear. 'Ah, Ladies, Ladies!' half laughing, but really very much in earnest, he apostrophized the peccant sex, 'I should like to ask, are we men to look upon our homes as dusty din-filled camps on the field of battle, or as holy temples of Peace? Ah!' He leaned back in his corner, stretched out his long legs, and thrust his restless hands in his pockets. 'If they knew!'
'Women?' asked Hermione, with the air of one painstakingly brushing up crumbs of wisdom.
Paul Filey nodded.
'Knew——?'
'They would see that in the ugly scramble they had let fall their crowns! If they only knew,' he repeated, 'they would go back to their thrones, and, with the sceptre of beauty in one hand and the orb of purity in the other, they would teach men to worship them again.'
'And then?' said Miss Levering.
'Then? Why, men will fall on their knees before them.' As Miss Levering made no rejoinder, 'What greater victory do women want?' he demanded.