_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 you found it out. _Miss A._ You men always stand by each other so faithfully! Now, I have observed these traits among my married friends: the husbands invariably give a half sigh at the sight of a beautiful girl, implying, "Oh, if I were not a married man!" while the wives, on meeting a man who attracts admiration, as uniformly believe that, let him be ever so handsome, clever or fascinating, he cannot compare with their own particular John. _Mrs. M._ That is true, Ethel; and it shows how much more faithful women are than men. _Philip._ Now, Jenny, that is nonsense. _Beverly._ Oh, I dare say there is a soupcon of truth in it. But I think I could give wives a recipe for keeping their husbands' affections, which, unpopular although it might be, would yet prove salutary. _Miss A._ Give it by all means, Mr. Beverly. Anything so beneficial would naturally be popular. _Beverly._ Pardon me, no. Were I to suggest a pilgrimage, a fast, or scourgings even, the fair sex would undertake the remedy at once, for they like some eclat about their smallest doings. All I want them to do is to correct their little spirit of self-will and cultivate good taste. _Mrs. M._ Women _self-willed_! Most women have no will at all. _Beverly._ I never saw a woman yet who had not a will; and I am the last person to deny their right to it. What I suggest is that they suit it to the requirements of their lives, not let it torment them by going all astray, by delighting in its errors and persisting in its chimeras. _Miss A._ I grant the first, that we have wills, but I do insist that we have good taste.