‘Of course the word at once recalls the harem, the zenana, but nothing of that kind would do. The wives would have to live separately, as the Mormons do, each in her own home, with her own circle of interests and duties, her own lifework. No one ought to live in idleness, which is the cause of all sorts of discord and trouble. Every woman should work at something, and to help someone. I’m not thinking now, of course, of happily married and contented women, but of the thousands leading miserable, dull, and lonely lives, who would be infinitely happier if they had a certain week to look forward to, at regular recurring intervals, when their husbands would be living with them. It would bring love and human interest and, what is most important of all, a _motive_ into their existence. I know it sounds dreadfully immoral,’ she went on, blushing again painfully, ‘but, oh! I don’t mean it like _that_. After all, the chief reason why people marry is for companionship, and it is companionship that unmarried women, past the gaiety of first youth, chiefly lack. The natural companion of woman is man; therefore, as there aren’t enough husbands to go round, it follows that one might do worse than share them. I don’t say it would be as satisfactory as having a devoted husband all to oneself, but it might be for the greatest good of the greatest number, and it would surely solve to a certain extent the--the social evils.’ They all clapped when she had finished somewhat breathlessly. It was obvious that the brave Bluestocking so far lacked the courage of her opinions as to be agonisingly embarrassed at this public expression of them. The Gentle Lady, who is the most tactful creature in existence, accordingly rose before anyone had time to speak, and the two women left the room together. A babble of talk arose from the men, under cover of which the Good Stockbroker also slipped quietly away. ‘Pass the port,’ said the Wicked Stockbroker, briskly. ‘She’s a deuced bright little woman, but how even the brainy ones can be so ignorant of life beats me, and how you chaps can be such hypocrites. . . . !’ ‘Hypocrites! what d’you mean?’ blustered the Family Egotist, who was by now almost bursting with suppressed talk. ‘Not you, old chap, but the Weary Roué and the Good Stockbroker, jawing away as if they really thought monogamy was in the majority in this country, and polygamy was something new! Of course one expects it from the G. S., but you, W. R., really ought to know better--by the way, where is the G. S?’ ‘I think he must have gone to propose to the Bluestocking--to save her from polygamy and her own opinions,’ drawled the Weary Roué, lighting his cigarette. ‘Stout fella! I believe he has!’ cried the Ass, excitedly. ‘I’ll have a shilling each way on it with any of you--I mean it, really!’ ‘Oh! what if he has?’ said the Family Egotist, irritably. ‘What does one fool more in the world matter? Do stop rotting, you fellows, and pass the port.’ V