"
"Of course you don't. Well, there isn't one anywhere about worthy to
think of you at all--not a man Jack of us--including me."
"And yet," Mary said, almost pitifully, "I have _liked_ men to think
about me! It's been so new, and interesting. What harm have men done me,
that I should avoid them, just because they are men? Are they all so
much worse than women, I wonder? Oughtn't we to be nice and sweet to
them? It would seem so ungrateful to be cold, because they are so very,
very kind to us. At least, that is what I felt till now--I mean till
quite lately. Men interested me, because they seemed rather mysterious,
so different from us; and I wanted to find out what they were really
like, for I've been with women all my life. I wish now--that is, I hope
I haven't behaved in ways to make people misunderstand?"
"Only fools, as I said before."
"But--what have I done to make the fools misunderstand? You must tell
me!"
"Nothing serious. Only--well, you have gone about with a queer lot
sometimes."
"Men or women?"
"Madame d'Ambre, for instance."
"Yes; but I haven't talked to her for a long time now."
"You've talked to others like her, and--worse."
"Would you have me be cruel? If some of the poor, pretty creatures here
aren't quite what they ought to be, because they've been badly brought
up or unfortunate, would you think it right and womanly not to answer
when they speak, or to turn one's back on them, or slam the Casino door
in their faces, as some cross-looking people do? Wouldn't that drive
them to being worse?"
It was difficult to answer this question with due regard to the laws of
God and man, and at the same time give Galatea a lesson in social
decorum.
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