A LITTLE PERVERSITY IN WOMEN.

MRS. PHILIP MARKHAM. PHILIP MARKHAM.
MISS ETHEL ARNOLD. FRANK BEVERLY.

(The four have been dining together and discussing the people
they had met some hours before at a reception.)

_Philip Markham._ At all events, I call her a very beautiful woman.--Don't
you say so, Beverly? I am telling Miss Arnold that I considered Miss St.
John handsome.

_Mrs. Markham._ Oh, Philip, how can you say so?

_Beverly._ I admired her immensely.

_Mrs. M._ (with a shrug). Oh, I dare say. A round, soulless face, a large
waist--

_Philip._ You women have no eyes. She has cheeks (to quote Cherbuliez)
like those fruits one longs to bite into, a pair of fine eyes, well-cut
lips--(Breaks off and laughs).

_Mrs. M._ (severely). Pray go on.

_Philip._ Not while you regard me with that virtuous air of condemnation.

_Mrs. M._ I confess I saw nothing to admire in the girl except that she
looked healthy and strong.

_Miss Arnold._ Nor did I. Moreover, she had the fault of being badly
dressed.

_Beverly._ She was beautiful, then, not by reason of her dress, as most of
your sex are, but in spite of it. You women always underrate physical
beauty in each other.

_Mrs. M._ (pretending not to have heard Beverly's remark). Yes, Ethel,
very badly dressed, and her hair was atrociously arranged.

_Philip._ Oh, we did not look at her hair, we were so much attracted by
her face and figure.

_Mrs. M._ (piqued). Take my advice, Ethel, and never marry. While we were
engaged Philip never thought of seeing beauty in any girl except myself:
now he is in a state of enthusiasm bordering upon frenzy over every new
face he comes across.

_Beverly._ He knows, I suppose, that you do not mind it--that you are the
more flattered the more he admires the entire sex.

_Mrs. M._ Of course I do not _mind_ it: the only thing is--

_Philip._ Well, what is the only thing, Jenny?

_Beverly._ You remember, Cousin Jenny, I was talking the other day about
the perversity of your sex. You either cannot or will not understand your
husbands: they hide nothing, extenuate nothing, yet you fail to grasp the
idea of that side of their minds which is at once the best and the most
dangerous. If Philip did not regard all women with interest, and some with
particular interest, he could not have had it in his head to be half so
much in love with you as he is.

_Philip._ That is true, Frank--so true that we won't ask how yo