“I don’t expect her to care for me,” said Dick, doggedly.
“I should hope not, when you are so fickle.”
“I don’t know why you should call me fickle. A man’s tastes must change as he grows older.”
“Exactly. But why should you expect Georgia to change in accordance with them? She is just what you might have guessed she would be.”
“I detest that type of woman.”
“I see. You would have liked Georgia to develop entirely on your lines. When you find that she has a character and a will of her own, you don’t like it.”
“I like a woman to be a woman. These lady doctors are not womanly.”
“Indeed! Who is the best judge of what is womanly, you or a woman?”
“Of course,” Dick went on, disregarding the question, “it is their business, and not mine. But you will find, Mab, that men like a woman to be gentle and soft and clinging, looking to them for protection.”
“Men!” said Mabel, contemptuously. “Who cares what men like?”