‘Oh, bah!’ said Fulvia, with superb amusement. ‘You don’t suppose I mean love in a serious sense? That is ridiculous. I suppose it exists--but not for people like me, not for people of my world. It would only hamper us----’ At this moment the door opened, and Signor Giuseppe walked into the room. ‘May I join you, as Fulvia is so soon leaving?’ he asked. ‘Oh, surely. Come in.’ He seated himself. ‘Do not let me interrupt you,’ he said to Fulvia. ‘I heard your voice as I was coming in. Go on.’ Fulvia hesitated a moment, looking almost embarrassed. Then, glancing down a little, she went on: ‘I was talking to Mrs. Hastings about my life and my occupations. As I was saying’--she looked again at Minna-‘falling in love would only be a great hindrance to us in our career. You see, everything is changed so--the relations of men to each other, of class to class, of order to order, and, above all, the relations of man and woman to each other. And the relations of women towards society and towards the world are changing wonderfully. It is recognised everywhere now--at least, by all who have their eyes open--that women are henceforward to play a different part in the world’s story. There is a class of woman now existing who will never marry, are never asked to marry, and are not a bit less happy on that account. And why? Because, though they will never marry, they have their clearly defined place in the world. There is a place for them now, though formerly there was none. They form one section, and a new one, of womankind--a sort of connecting link between men and women. I call them the third sex,’ pursued Fulvia to her silenced but not delighted hearers. ‘Then, again, there are the women who marry for love, for the purpose of living with their husbands in homes of their own, and having children, and perpetuating the practice and tradition of the great domestic virtues which are supposed to be so very firmly developed in this particular country.’ She smiled a little, not very genially. ‘They are valuable, too; in fact, we couldn’t very well do without them. But there are yet others who marry, sometimes consciously for position and influence and estate; sometimes unconsciously--sometimes they have it thrust upon them.’ She did not smile at all, and Minna felt that there was deadly earnest behind her calm manner. ‘At any rate, they enter upon that condition, and then they find that there is a world for them, too--a place for them, too, in public affairs, in the social parliament, in giving its tone to modern life in general. Such women necessarily have numbers of--well, whatever you like to call them: admirers, hangers-on, lovers--it’s an old-fashioned word. They know exactly what use to make of such a state of affairs; they know that feelings, and love, and all that kind of thing, are not for them. They have quite a distinct sphere--an influence and a world apart from all sentiment--except what happens