“Oh, yes, I know!” exclaimed Kingslake, impatiently, as he balanced himself on the arm of the bench. “All girls—especially the rather spoilt sort of girl that Cecily was—get ideas into their heads. But, my dear fellow, a woman nearly always settles down after she’s married.”
“Some of your most striking novels are founded on a contrary opinion,” observed Mayne, with a laugh. “You see you are read—even in the wilds.”
“You flatter me,” said Robert, dryly. He moved again, and began his restless pacing. “Cecily, I suppose, has been complaining—telling you that it was my wish to come into the country, and so forth?” he broke out at last with some resentment.
Mayne lifted his head. “She has never mentioned the subject to me,” he answered, shortly. “I was only thinking of her as I knew her, five or six years ago. She was considered—well—rather brilliant, in those days. Does she write now?” The question was put suddenly.
“Not that I know of,” Kingslake answered, absently. Mayne glanced at him with a curious expression. He wondered whether he was aware of the illuminating quality of his indifferent reply. Did he know what a milestone he had pointed out in the matrimonial road?
“Women don’t really care a snap of the fingers about art,” Robert went on, with confidential fluency. “Matrimony is the goal of their ambition; that once attained, they sit ever afterwards serenely on the shore, watching the struggles of the rest of their sex towards the same haven.”
A magazine was lying on the bench—one of the Quarterlies. Mayne fluttered the leaves with a smile.
“Mrs. Kingslake left this here,” he said. “I envy you your power of detachment when you write articles, Kingslake. A Vindication of Woman’s Claim in Art, by Fergus Macdonald. That’s your writing name, isn’t it? I seem to be turning your own weapons against you with horrid frequency. I’m sorry,” he laughed again.
“You misunderstand me!” protested Robert. “Didn’t I say ‘the women who marry’? I meant to. What I said doesn’t apply to the women nowadays who don’t marry—have no wish to marry. That such women may be artists, actual or potential, I have no doubt. When a woman is not preoccupied with the affairs of sex——”
“She’s generally wanting to be.”