"As much as women always love them."
"There, that is honest. I would not give a fig for a woman who hadn't a little vanity."
Durrell struck in, jerking his shoulders irritably.
"There is enough nonsense in a girl's head, De Rothan, without stuffing any more into it."
"My dear friend, I disagree with you. There are gentlewomen and gentlewomen. Parents, too, are often the blindest of wiseacres. Now if I were in your place, Mr. Anthony——"
"But you are not, sir. Let us keep to impersonal matters."
De Rothan threw a whimsical and conspiring look at Nance.
"Impersonal matters! As if life could go on with all our desires carefully tied up in silk handkerchiefs and put away in cupboards. Mr. Durrell, you are one of the most learned of men, but——"
He shrugged his shoulders expressively and looked sympathetically at Nance.
"Well, to be impersonal. I saw all kinds of your good English people strutting to and fro on the parade. You look so good, you English, that a well-dressed woman seems scandalous. You are such barbarians. Some one wears a new sort of hat, and all your raw louts and lasses are giggling and nudging with elbows. Some of you try to be fashionable and also pious. I am thinking of Mees Rose Benham, who was there in her curricle. Doubtless, Mees Nance, you have made the lady's acquaintance?"