ictures, go to concerts, keep our eyes open in the
streets, and ask questions perpetually. We were very young. You can
judge of our simplicity when I tell you that before parting that night
we agreed that the objects of life were to produce good people and good
books. Our questions were to be directed to finding out how far these
objects were now attained by men. We vowed solemnly that we would not
bear a single child until we were satisfied.

Off we went then, some to the British Museum; others to the King's Navy;
some to Oxford; others to Cambridge; we visited the Royal Academy and
the Tate; heard modern music in concert rooms, went to the Law Courts,
and saw new plays. No one dined out without asking her partner certain
questions and carefully noting his replies. At intervals we met together
and compared our observations. Oh, those were merry meetings! Never have
I laughed so much as I did when Rose read her notes upon "Honour" and
described how she had dressed herself as an AEthiopian Prince and gone
aboard one of His Majesty's ships. Discovering the hoax, the Captain
visited her (now disguised as a private gentleman) and demanded that
honour should be satisfied. "But how?" she asked. "How?" he bellowed.
"With the cane of course!" Seeing that he was beside himself with rage
and expecting that her last moment had come, she bent over and received,
to her amazement, six light taps upon the behind. "The honour of the
British Navy is avenged!" he cried, and, raising herself, she saw him
with the sweat pouring down his face holding out a trembling right hand.
"Away!" she exclaimed, striking an attitude and imitating the ferocity
of his own expression, "My honour has still to be satisfied!" "Spoken
like a gentleman!" he returned, and fell into profound thought. "If six
strokes avenge the honour of the King's Navy," he mused, "how many
avenge the honour of a private gentleman?" He said he would prefer to
lay the case before his brother officers. She replied haughtily that she
could not wait. He praised her sensibility. "Let me see," he cried
suddenly, "did your father keep a carriage?" "No," she said. "Or a
riding horse!" "We had a donkey," she bethought her, "which drew the
mowing machine." At this his face lighted. "My mother's name----" she
added. "For God's sake, man, don't mention your mother's name!" he
shrieked, trembling like an aspen and flushing to the roots of his hair,
and it was ten minutes at least before she c