Since Georgia’s thoughts had been so deeply stirred on this subject, it was not wonderful that she communicated her views to Dick when they happened to be talking on the terrace that evening. She felt it a necessity to share her reflections with some one, and to her surprise he received them with unwonted meekness. “Kipling doesn’t agree with you,” was all he said in answer to her estimate of the probable happiness of the Eastern as compared with that of the Western woman. “Kipling!” said Georgia, in high scorn. “I thought you admired him?” “So I do. I think he is an excellent authority on men--at least, the men seem to find it so--but what can he, or any man, know about women? At best they can only see results and guess at causes. They observe very carefully all that they can see, and give us the result of their observations in knowing little remarks, half cynical and half patronising, and think they have gauged a woman’s nature to its very depths. Then she does something that throws all their calculations wrong, and they say that she is shallow and fickle, and, above all, unwomanly; whereas it is only that either their observations or their deductions were incorrect.” “Still,” said Dick, “I am inclined to agree with a very comforting doctrine I heard you enunciating to Stratford the other night. You were speaking of the principle of balance, and you said that when one side of the truth had been exclusively insisted upon for a time the pendulum swung back and the other side became prominent until it was the first one’s turn again. I thought it was a very good idea--for the people who can keep just in the middle. Those who rush to either extreme must find themselves rather left when the pendulum swings.” “But what has that to do with our present subject?” asked Georgia. “It seems to me to apply. You see, the New--I beg your pardon; I know you dislike the term--the modern female has had rather a long innings lately. You have often said that you don’t agree with all her developments, which seems pretty clear proof that she has at any rate approached the extreme point. Well, Kipling comes to show us the other side of the matter, exaggerated, perhaps; but that is unavoidable, owing to the exaggerations on the lady’s part. At least, that is how it strikes me.” “North, where are you?” said Stratford, appearing suddenly on the terrace. “The Chief wants you for something.” Dick rose and disappeared, with an apology to Georgia, who leaned back in her chair and smiled.