“There are many kinds of men,” she began, “and to a woman of the world it is a necessity to classify those whom she meets.”
“Indeed?” queried Armstrong. “You are throwing some most interesting side-lights upon a subject which my education has entirely overlooked.”
“Am I?” Amélie asked, innocently. “But your education has been so far developed in other directions that you can easily recognize the importance of what I say. A woman who meets the world face to face must be able to estimate the elements against which she has to contend.”
“Into how many classes do you divide us?” Armstrong was interested in her naïve presentment.
“The three principal divisions are, of course, single men, married men, and widowers, but the subdivisions are really more important. For my own use I find it more convenient to separate those I meet into four classes—the interesting, the uninteresting, the safe, and the dangerous.”
“You have developed an absolute system,” Armstrong asserted.
“Yes, indeed,” Amélie responded, cheerfully; “without one you men would have too distinct an advantage over us.”
“I wish you would enlarge on your classification a little more. It is gratifying to me to know that members of my sex receive such careful consideration.”
“Well, suppose we eliminate the uninteresting—they really don’t count except in considering matrimony; then we have to weigh the material advantages they offer against their lack of interest. This brings us down to the interesting and safe, and the interesting and dangerous.”
“Have I the honor to be included in one of these two classes?”