"How much?"
"You know."
"Yes, I know," said Leicester quietly; "and as you chaps are so deeply interested in my soul, I'll tell you. I never proposed to Miss Blackstone; I never thought of proposing to her."
"Then why did you cease going to her father's house?"
Leicester laughed.
"Because her father has ceased to invite me," he replied. "Do you know why? I'll tell you. The devil got hold of me one night and I trod on the old man's moral and religious corns. I knocked the sawdust out of his dolls. I was feeling a bit cynical, and I attacked the motives and morals of religious people. Now, then, you know. But I never proposed to Miss Blackstone; if I had, I should have been accepted."
"It's good to have a high opinion of one's self."
"Or a poor opinion of women," replied Leicester.
"What has that to do with the question?"
"Only this. Women don't trouble about morals. What women want in a husband is a man that shall be talked about; a man who is courted and petted; a man who is quoted in the papers. Given position, and notoriety on the lines I have mentioned, and women don't trouble about the other things."