'You mean that we should ask our women-folk to do little things for us which we know quite well we could do better ourselves.'
'Yes.'
'And thus,' he suggested, 'satisfy their personal vanity.'
Brenda did not answer him at once. The question required consideration.
'Yes,' she replied at length, 'and thus satisfy their personal vanity. There is no object to be gained by concealing the fact that our happiness in life is merely a question of satisfied vanity, from the very beginning to the very end.'
'From a new pair of woollen boots to a long funeral procession of empty carriages?' added Trist, with meek interrogation.
'Women do not as a rule go to their graves before a number of bored coachmen and empty broughams.'
'Most of them would like to.'
'Yes; I am afraid you are right. But we seem to take it for granted that men allow us a monopoly of vanity.'
'Oh no!' Trist hastened to correct; 'you only possess the monopoly of one description. Yours is a thirsty vanity which knows no slaking; ours is satisfied. Of the two, yours, mademoiselle, is less objectionable. I suppose independence or self-dependence is my pet vanity.'