"Gilbert!"
"So she is, like the other representatives of her sex. She's another illustration of the eternal truth that a woman can't walk alone; she can't. In consequence she's got herself into the infernal muddle she has done. The first male who, so to speak, got within reach of her, took her by the scruff of the neck, and made her keep step with him. He happened to be a scamp, so there's all this to do. It constantly is like that. Most women are like mirrors--mere surfaces on which to reflect their owners; and when their owners take it into their heads to smash the mirrors, why, they're smashed. When I think of what an ass this young woman has made of herself and others, merely because she's a woman, and therefore couldn't help it, something sticks in my throat. I can't be civil to her; it's no use trying. I want to get in touch with something vertebrate: I can't stand molluscs."
Under the circumstances it was not strange that matters in the drawing-room were no more lively than they had been at dinner. So Miss Arnott excused herself at what she considered to be the earliest possible moment and went to bed.
At least she went as far as her bedroom. She found Evans awaiting her. A bed was made up close to her own, all arrangements were arranged to keep watch and ward over her through the night.
"Evans," she announced, "I've come to bed."
"Have you, miss? It's early--that is, for you."
"If you'd spent the sort of evening I have you'd have come early to bed. Evans, I want to tell you something."
"Yes, miss; what might it be?"
"Don't you ever take it for granted that, because a man's clever at one thing, he's clever, or the least bit of good, at anything else."
"I'm afraid, miss, that I don't understand."