"Oh, I'm not joking. I really am collecting evidence on the subject. I've been studying it hard now for two days and a night. There's not much help, is there," pointing out the open window, "in three chimney-pots and a demolition? If you hadn't come, I was prepared to take Mrs. Gribble's opinion. Come, Prentice—man to man—have you ever——?"
"No," I answered, rather shortly. "I've been too busy all my life."
"But it can be done?"
"My dear Ingram, you know 'women' is not a subject I've specialized on."
"But still, you keep your eyes open?"
"Well, then; I can't say I think it often happens: nothing like as often as the other way round; and yet——"
"And yet——I know. It may. And some people are doomed to knock their heads against exceptions all their lives."
He twisted himself to one side with the weak and peevish movement of a man seeking relief on the rack.
"Is the woman you're—er—writing about young, or only still young?"
"She's very, very young," he answered, with a curious sort of smile—bitter and yet tender at the same time.