“Well, ’tis hard blamin’ the young men because every young lady you meet looks better to you than the last until you meet the next an’ so you go on to another until you’re so old that no one would marry you at all unless you had lots of money, a bad liver, an’ a shaky heart.”
“An old man without any sense, lots of money, a bad liver, an’ a shaky heart can always get a young lady to marry him,” said Felix, “though rheumatics, gout, an’ a wooden leg are just as good in such a case.”
“Every bit,” said Standish, “but there’s nothin’ like a weak constitution, a cold climate, an’ a tendency to pneumonia.”
“Old men are quare,” said Felix.
“They are,” said Standish, “an’ if they were all only half as wise as they think they are then they’d be only young fools in the world. I don’t wonder a bit at the suffragettes. An’ a time will come when we won’t know men from women unless some one tells us so.”
“Wisha, ’tis my belief that there will be a great reaction some day, because women will never be able to stand the strain of doin’ what they please without encountering opposition. When a man falls in love he falls into trouble likewise, an’ when a woman isn’t in trouble you may be sure that there’s something wrong with her.”
“Well,” said Standish, “I think we will leave the women where the devil left St. Peter—”
“Where was that?” asked Felix.
“Alone,” answered Standish.
“That would be all very fine if they stayed there,” said Felix.