CHAPTER VIII. THE GARDEN.
“Take a cigar, Helen?” said George.
“No, thank you,” answered Helen; “I like it diluted.”
“I don’t see why ladies should not have things strong as men.”
“Not if they don’t want them. You can’t enjoy everything—I mean, one can’t have the strong and the delicate both at once. I don’t believe a smoker can have the same pleasure in smelling a rose that I have.”
“Isn’t it a pity we never can compare sensations?”
“I don’t think it matters much: everyone would have to keep to his own after all.”
“That’s good, Helen! If ever man try to humbug you, he will find he has lost his stirrups. If only there were enough like you left in this miserable old hulk of a creation!”
It was an odd thing that when in the humour of finding fault, Bascombe would not unfrequently speak of the cosmos as a creation. He was himself unaware of the curious fact.