"Aha! You admit it!" cried Miss Nimrod triumphantly. "Why should I embrace a profession to which I feel no call? Marriage has practically nothing to offer any independent woman except a trousseau, wedding presents, and the jealousy of her female friends. But what are these weighed against the cramping of her individuality? Perhaps even children come to fetter her life still more and she has daughters who grow up to be younger than herself. No, the future lies with the Old Maid; the woman who will retain her youth and her individuality till death; who dies, but does not surrender. The ebbing tide is with you, Miss Jack; the flowing tide is with us. The Old Maids' Club will be the keystone of the arch of the civilization of to-morrow, and Miss Dulcimer's name will go down to posterity linked with——"
"Lord Silverdale's," said the millionaire.
"Father! What are you saying?" murmured Lillie, abashed before her visitors.
"I was reminding Miss Nimrod of the part his lordship has played in the movement. It is not fair posterity should give you all the credit."
"I have done nothing for the club—nothing," said the peer modestly.
"And I will do the same," said Miss Jack. "I came here under the delusion that I was going to associate myself with a protest against the defeminization of my sex, with a band of noble women who were resolved never to marry till the good old times were restored and marriages became true marriages once more. But instead of that I find—Wee Winnie."
"You are, indeed, fortunate beyond your deserts," replied that lady. "You may even hope to encounter a suitable husband some day."
"I do hope," said Miss Jack frankly. "But I will never marry till I meet a thoroughly conventional man."
"There I have the advantage of you," said Miss Nimrod. "I shall never marry till I meet a thoroughly unconventional man."
"A thoroughly unconventional man would never want to marry at all," said Lillie.