Have you never watched the gentle sex fight and push and scramble as it gets into the Hammersmith bus? I assure you, the unlucky man who finds himself in that seething feminine crowd is fortunate if he escapes without losing an eye or half his teeth. And have you seen the fury of the gentle sex at a sale as they seize some worthless fragment, and the bitterness with which they haggle? The other day I was in the Army and Navy Stores, and two women were standing on the stairs, discussing their servants, so that no one could pass up and down. I took off my hat and said: Excuse me, would you allow me to pass. They moved barely two inches, and one of them said in a loud voice to the other: What an impertinent man. The gentle sex! Yesterday I was hanging on a strap in a crowded train coming from the city, and I saw a pale-faced weary clerk give up his seat to a strong and bouncing girl. She took it without saying thank you, because she was a lady and he wasn’t a gentleman. Then a tired old woman came in and stood, but the bouncing girl never thought of giving up the seat to her. The gentle sex! They have such tender hearts they couldn’t bear to hurt a fly. Have you ever seen a woman get out of a bus ten yards before her destination in order to save the wretched horses another start? Not much. Have you ever known a woman of fashion who sends her maid to bed when she knows she won’t be in till four in the morning? Not much. And is there anything like the insolence with which a woman treats her social inferiors of the same sex? Is it men who put on their backs the sealskins that are torn off the living bodies of helpless brutes? Is it men who put on their hats the beautiful birds of the forest? It’s the gentle sex. Boys are taught manners. They are taught to take off their hats and hold open the door for their sisters. They are taught to fetch and carry for women, and to give up the front seat in life to women. But what are girls taught? Girls are taught etiquette, and that, I suppose, makes them in due course the gentle sex. LADY SELLENGER. Every one knows you’re a horrible cynic, so there can’t be a word of truth in anything you say. BLENKINSOP. Q.E.D. GERALD. Here comes Nellie. [NELLIE _comes in, having changed her dress. She now wears a very pretty white frock, all flounces and furbelows, and a large white hat. At the same moment from the other side_ FREDDIE _enters. He also has changed, and is now in spotless white._ MRS. DOT. [_With a laugh, whispering to_ BLENKINSOP.] They’ve both changed their clothes. GERALD. Would you like to come for a row, Nellie? NELLIE. I’m too tired. Won’t you go with Mrs. Dot? I’ll rest here till tea-time. [NELLIE _sits down, and the others go_. LADY SELLENGER. Personally, I must walk. I sacrifice all my inclinations to my fear of growing too stout. I often wonder if we shall get our good dinners in heaven that we’ve done without on earth. BLENKINSOP.