"No! That is exactly what I have not done. It is of no use. For, being moods, they are unintelligble, and the man who tries to solve them usually comes to grief. Besides, the effort is really unnecessary." "You speak from experience?" Gordon asked quietly. "I don't say that," Hawke replied, and with a shade more of earnestness than the occasion seemed to demand. "No, I don't say that. You may call it a theory of mine if you like. But I believe that it is true all the same. All that you want to know about a woman is the colour of her hair and eyes, whether she paints, how she is dressed, the texture of her gloves, and the size of her boots." "I fancied a woman liked to be talked to about herself," Lawson objected. "But those things constitute herself--at all events to most women," he added, seeing that the other was about to interpose. "I admit there may be exceptions." "But you have never met one." Hawke shot a quick glance from beneath knitted brows at Gordon as the latter spoke; but the remark had fallen quite casually from his lips, and he appeared only bored by the discussion. "I don't want to have my ideas attributed to personal causes. An anchorite may theorise," Hawke replied. "Anchorite is good," said Lawson. "Believe it or not, that is the right plan. A woman's self is an awkward thing to tackle. It perplexes you if you begin to think about it, and the more you think, the more it perplexes you, and, consequently, the stronger the hold it seizes on you. And just because a woman's bewildering, you run the risk of ending by respecting her--and that is fatal." "Indeed! Why?" "Because the moment you begin to respect her, she begins to despise you." Lawson burst out into a hearty laugh and said, "Come along, Hawke! That is enough lecture for to-day. You have made me laugh and bored Gordon to death." "You epitomise the fate of unconventional truths," Hawke answered, and then turned to Gordon. "What do you think of my theory? Does it bore you?" "I think," Gordon replied, quietly, "that it is one of those theories which, to use your own words, sooner or later bring a man to grief." "By Jove, yes! and irretrievably," said Lawson. "So you had better take care, Master Hawke. I have often noticed that!" he continued musingly. "When a man comes to grief over facts, he can pull round if he has any luck. But when he comes a cropper over theories, there's an end of him for good and all."