“No, it's no use, professor,” she said. “A man has got to go his way and a woman hers. If their ways lie together, so much the better—they can help each other; if they lie apart, so much the worse. Besides, I cannot conceive anything more irritating to a man than to be followed all about by his wife—like a dog. No wonder some men beat their wives.”
Treherne had caught the speech. He turned to Clytie. “Do you believe that?”
“Of course. Mrs. Farquharson and I are sworn sisters. We hold advanced views concerning ourselves. I hope you don't think we have a mission! Have you ever thought how distressing it is to try to live up to a false ideal, and somebody else's into the bargain?”
“We all have to live up to an ideal. This one may be false; I don't know. At any rate it is a high one, and worth aiming at.”
“That is Jesuitical. What is to become of a woman's self-respect when she knows all the time she is a humbug, although a sublime one?”
“By seeking to inspire others with faith in her she will at length acquire faith in herself.”
“Don't you think that's rather vicious?”
“I don't know. The same principle obtains in my own calling. Many a man enters the Church who is not really fit for it. But the professional effort he has to make to raise others in most cases raises himself.”
“That may be quite true,” said Clytie, “but it does not prove the principle to be right. Besides, the cases are different. You undertake, when you enter the Church, to do certain things. Now when a woman enters the world she does not undertake to do anything, any more than a man does. They both clamour to assert themselves as human beings. They may go about it in different ways,—it is merely the difference of sex,—but their ultimate end is the same.”
“And what is this?”