“How many a year, did you say?”
“Sometimes twenty or thirty, sometimes only four or five.”
“Oh! that makes more than a hundred in all!”
“Yes, just about.”
“Oh! I think that is dreadful!”
“Why dreadful?”
“Because it's dreadful when you think of it—all those women—and always—always the same thing. Oh! it's dreadful, just the same—more than a hundred women!”
He was surprised that she should think that dreadful, and answered, with the air of superiority which men take with women when they wish to make them understand that they have said something foolish:
“That's funny! If it is dreadful to have a hundred women, it's dreadful to have one.”
“Oh, no, not at all!”