“My dear Sophy, why should you disapprove? Just think of it! Here am I, past forty, without any attraction whatsoever, no looks, no fortune, and nothing to look forward to in life except perhaps the chance of travel and adventure. I’m fond of studies in modern science, and I believe I’ve read every book of note on all the new discoveries,—and here’s a man who plainly announces in his advertisement that he needs the assistance of a woman like me. There can be no harm done by my going to see him. Very likely by the time I get to Geneva he’ll be what the servants call ‘suited.’ Then I’ll try something else. For now, as long as I live I’m alone in the world and must stand on my own.”
“Do you mean to say that you’ll never go back to the old folks?” asked Sophy.
“How can I, when I’m dead!” laughed Diana. “No, no! It would be too awful for them to see me turning up again just when I had ceased to be in the way!”
Sophy frowned.
“Selfish old brutes!” she said.
Diana demurred.
“No, don’t say that!” she expostulated. “You must bear in mind that I’ve been a terrible disappointment to them. They wanted me to marry well,—for money rather than love—and when I wasted my youth for love’s sake, of course they were angry. They thought me a fool,—and really, so I was! I don’t think there can be anything more foolish than to sacrifice the best part of one’s life for any man. He is never worth it,—he never understands or appreciates it. To him women are all alike,—one as good or as bad as t’other. The mistake we make is when we fail to treat him as he treats us! He is a creature who from very babyhood upwards should be whipped rather than spoilt. That is why he is frequently more faithful to his mistress than his wife. He’s afraid of the one, but he can bully the other.”
Sophy clapped her hands.
“Well said, Di! You begin to agree with me at last! Once upon a time you were all for believing in the chivalrous thought and tenderness of men——”
“I wanted to believe,” interrupted Diana, with a half smile—“I can’t honestly say I did!”