"There's another blind divinity besides Justice. Beware the shoal of matrimony! Many a good fellow has been wrecked there."
"Harping on your old string! You are a professed woman hater."
"Who, I? Now that is a scandalous libel. I admire them,—of course."
"And yet there's not a lady of your acquaintance whom I have not heard you analyze, criticise, cavil at, and disparage."
"My dear fellow!"
"You have no conscience to deny it."
"I protest I have the greatest—ahem!—admiration for the ladies of our acquaintance. We have an excellent assortment,—we have witty women; brilliant women; women of taste and genius; exact and fastidious women,—a full supply,—accomplished women; finished and elegant women,—not too many, but still we have them; learned women; gentle, amiable, tender women; sharp and caustic women; sensible and practical women; domestic women,—all unimpeachable,—all good in their kind."
"Then why is matrimony so dangerous?"
"No, no, not dangerous, exactly,—thanks to discreet nurture and northern winters; not dangerous hereabouts as it was in the days of the old satirists. A wise man may be safe enough here from any climax of matrimonial evil; but there are minor mischiefs, daily désagrémens."
"What, in spite of that catalogue of feminine virtues which you delivered just now?"