"The cases hardly seem to me parallel," said Lord Wrexham, looking puzzled.
"Of course it doesn't do to press a metaphor too far," assented Madderley.
"Another absurd thing about men," Isabel went on, "is that they expect you to like them because they are kind to you, and do what you want; while what you really like them for is the trick of their manner or the colour of their hair."
"I think you are in a minority there, my dear Isabel," said Lady Farley, "as a rule kindness appeals more to a woman than anything. I believe any man could make any woman love him, if he were only kind enough long enough."
"People like us for what we do, and love us for what we are," interpolated Sir Benjamin; "that is my experience."
"I know," agreed Isabel, "therefore we can make people like us but we cannot make them love us."
"That is true of a woman," said Lady Farley, helping herself to strawberries, "but hardly of a man. I still hold that any man can win a woman's love through kindness; and I also hold that external roughness of manner will—in a woman's eyes—counteract the effect of any amount of secret devotion. When all is said and done, we like the men who will dance with us better than the men who would die for us; such is the constitution of the normal female mind."
Isabel tossed her head. "I do not think so."
"But surely you like the people who are kind to you, don't you?" asked her host.
"No; I like people because they are attractive, not because they are kind. I always pity children when they have to kiss grown-ups who have given them presents. If I were a child, I should not want to kiss the lady who had given me the prettiest present, but the lady who had the prettiest face."