ngle soul in the world got the comfort of as much as a
recovered threepenny bit out of the estate. Then, less than crumbs, less
than drops, there were to be grabbed, the lease of the big Brighton
house, the furniture therein, the carriage and pair, the girl's riding
horse, her costly trinkets; down to the heavily gold-mounted collar of
her pedigree St. Bernard. The dog too went: the most noble-looking item
in the beggarly assets.

What however went first of all or rather vanished was nothing in the
nature of an asset. It was that plotting governess with the trick of a
"perfect lady" manner (severely conventional) and the soul of a
remorseless brigand. When a woman takes to any sort of unlawful
man-trade, there's nothing to beat her in the way of thoroughness. It's
true that you will find people who'll tell you that this terrific
virulence in breaking through all established things, is altogether the
fault of men. Such people will ask you with a clever air why the servile
wars were always the most fierce, desperate and atrocious of all wars.
And you may make such answer as you can--even the eminently feminine one,
if you choose, so typical of the women's literal mind "I don't see what
this has to do with it!" How many arguments have been knocked over (I
won't say knocked down) by these few words! For if we men try to put the
spaciousness of all experiences into our reasoning and would fain put the
Infinite itself into our love, it isn't, as some writer has remarked, "It
isn't women's doing." Oh no. They don't care for these things. That
sort of aspiration is not much in their way; and it shall be a funny
world, the world of their arranging, where the Irrelevant would
fantastically step in to take the place of the sober humdrum Imaginative
. . . "

I raised my hand to stop my friend Marlow.

"Do you really believe what you have said?" I asked, meaning no offence,
because with Marlow one never could be sure.

"Only on certain days of the year," said Marlow readily with a malicious
smile. "To-day I have been simply trying to be spacious and I perceive
I've managed to hurt your susceptibilities which are consecrated to
women. When you sit alone and silent you are defending in your mind the
poor women from attacks which cannot possibly touch them. I wonder what
can touch them? But to soothe your uneasiness I will point out again
that an Irrelevant world would be very amusing, if the women take care to
make