Irene was inclined to laugh.
"It's very good of you." she said.
"But I mean it. Girls haven't quite a fair chance, you know. They can't see much of men."
"If it comes to that," said Irene merrily, "men seem to me in much the same position."
"Oh, it's so different. Girls—women—are good. There's nothing unpleasant to be known about them."
"Upon my word, Eustace! On n'est pas plus galant! But I really feel it my duty to warn you against that amiable optimism. If you were so kind as to be uneasy on my account, I shall be still more so on yours. Your position, my dear boy, is a little perilous."
Eustace laughed, not without some amiable confusion. To give himself a countenance, he smote at pebbles with the head of his walking-stick.
"Oh, I shan't marry for ages!"
"That shows rather more prudence than faith in your doctrine."
"Never mind. Our subject is Arnold Jacks. He's a splendid fellow. The best and most sensible fellow I know."