"I'm afraid also," the mother went on, smiling, "that she is not abreast of the age—that she doesn't write, doesn't belong to a club, doesn't even bicycle, and can't take photographs."
"Oh, what a perfect woman!" ejaculated Rendel.
"In fact I must admit that she has no bread-winning talent, and that in case of need she could not earn her own livelihood."
"If she had anything to do with me," said Rendel, "I should be ashamed if she tried."
"She is not as clever as you are."
"But even supposing that to be true," said Rendel, "isn't that a state of things that makes for happiness?"
"Well," replied Lady Gore, "I believe that as far as women are concerned you are behind the age too."
"I am quite certain of it," Rendel said, "and it is therefore to be rejoiced over that the only woman I have ever thought of wanting should not insist on being in front of it."
"The only woman? Is that so?" Lady Gore asked.
"It is indeed," he said, with conviction.