t," said Davy. "That's the ways of women, sir; I've seen
it myself. Aw, women is quare, sir, wonderful quare."

"And yet," said Lovibond, "while she is sitting pining to death indoors
he is enjoying himself night and day with his coarse companions."

Davy put up his pipe on the mantelpiece. "Now the man that does the like
of that is a scoundrel," he said, warmly.

"I agree with you, Capt'n," said Lovibond.

"He's a brute!" said Davy, more loudly.

"Of course we've only heard one side of the story," said Lovibond.

"No matter; he's a brute and a scoundrel," said Davy. "Dont you hould
with me there, mate?"

"I do," said Lovibond. "But still--who knows? She may--I say she may--be
one of those women who want their own way."

"All women wants it," said Davy. "It's mawther's milk to them--Mawther
Eve's milk, as you might say."

"True, true!" said Lovibond; "but though she looks so sweet she may have
a temper."

"And what for shouldn't she?" said Davy, "D'ye think God A'mighty meant
it all for the men?"

"Perhaps," said Lovibond, "she turned up her nose at his coarse ways and
rough comrades."

"And right, too," said Davy. "Let him keep his dirty trousses to
hisself. Who is he?"

"She didn't tell me that," said Lovibond.

"Whoever he is he's a wastrel," said Davy.

"I'm afraid you're right, Capt'n," said Lovibond.

"Women is priv'leged where money goes," said Davy. "If they haven't got
it by heirship they can't make it by industry, and to accuse them of
being without it is taking a mane advantage. It's hitting below the
belt, sir. Accuse a man if you like--ten to one he's lazy--but a
woman--never, sir, never, never!"

Davy was tramping the room by this time, and making it ring with the
voice as of a lion, and the foot as of an elephant.

"More till that, sir," he said. "A good girl with nothing at her who
takes a bad man with a million cries talley with the crayther the day
she marries him. What has he brought her? His dirty, mucky, measley
money, come from the Lord knows where. What has _she_ brought him?
Herself, and everything she is and will be, stand or fall, sink or swim,
blow high, blow low--to sail by his side till they cast anchor together
at last Don't you hould with me there, sir?"

"I do, Capt'n, I do," said Lovibond.

"And the ruch man that goes bearing up alongside a girl that's sweet and
honest, and then twitting her with being poorer till hisself, is a dirt
and divil, and ought to be wa