“Women!” replied the Captain, looking steadily at his companion; “women, my boy. I’ve watched the thing working now ever since I was a cornet, and I never knew a good fellow thoroughly broke down that there wasn’t a woman at the bottom of it. Now, look at Lacquers; when Lacquers came to us, there wasn’t such another cheery fellow in the Hussar Brigade--it did me good to see Lacquers drink that ’34 we finished in Dublin--and as for riding, there wasn’t another heavy-weight in that country could see _the way he went_--and now look what he’s arrived at. Never dines at mess--horses gone to Tattersall’s--sits and mopes in his barrack-room, or else off to London at a moment’s notice--and closeted all day with agents and men-of-business--and what is it that’s brought him to this pass? Why, that girl he wants to marry, who won’t have anything to say to him--and why she won’t is more than I can tell, unless she’s got a richer chap in tow somewhere else. Capon, my boy, you’re younger than me, and you’ve got most of your troubles to come. Take my advice, and stick to the regiment, and horses and hunting and that; but keep clear of women; they’re all alike--only the top-sawyers are the most mischievous--you keep clear of ’em all, for if you don’t you’ll be sorry for it--mark my words if you’re not.” This was a long speech for the Captain, and he was quite out of breath at its conclusion; but the Cornet did not entirely agree with him. He had got a _tendresse_ down in the West--a saucy blue-eyed cousin, whose image often came before the lad’s eyes in his barrack-room and his revelry and his boyish dissipation; so he contented himself with remarking profoundly that “Women were so different, it was impossible to lay down any general rule about them any more than horses;” and expressing his conviction that, whatever might be the secret grief preying upon the Major’s spirits, it could have nothing to do with the fair sex, “for you know, Clank, D’Orville’s a devilish _old_ fellow--why, he must be forty if he’s a day.” So the pair jingled into the mess-room to have some luncheon, and ordered their buggy, to drive up to London afterwards, and spend the rest of the day in the delights of the metropolis--since this it is which makes Hounslow such a favourite quarter with these light-hearted sons of the sword.