“Then it is a good thing that there is a woman to do it. The fact is, Dick, you hoped that Georgia would have changed her mind during these years, and that she would want you when she could not have you. That is a nice, manly, chivalrous way of trying to get your revenge on her, isn’t it? And when she is willing to forget all that foolishness, and to meet you as an old friend, you are angry, instead of being thankful that she can bring herself to overlook it. You really were fearfully silly in those days, Dick, and bothered her horribly. Why can’t you let it drop, if she can? You say you don’t care for her now. Why you should expect her to care for you, I don’t know.” “I don’t expect her to care for me,” said Dick, doggedly. “I should hope not, when you are so fickle.” “I don’t know why you should call me fickle. A man’s tastes must change as he grows older.” “Exactly. But why should you expect Georgia to change in accordance with them? She is just what you might have guessed she would be.” “I detest that type of woman.” “I see. You would have liked Georgia to develop entirely on your lines. When you find that she has a character and a will of her own, you don’t like it.” “I like a woman to be a woman. These lady doctors are not womanly.” “Indeed! Who is the best judge of what is womanly, you or a woman?” “Of course,” Dick went on, disregarding the question, “it is their business, and not mine. But you will find, Mab, that men like a woman to be gentle and soft and clinging, looking to them for protection.” “Men!” said Mabel, contemptuously. “Who cares what men like?” “Well, a good many women seem to think rather a lot of it. No one wants a woman to be brave and self-reliant. Now Miss Keeling’s manner--it implied that she could look after herself, and had no need of a protector--and yet she was not putting on side--it was simply a steady sort of self-dependence. That’s all very well, but it isn’t what I like in a woman. And she looked me over, just as a man might. It made me feel quite queer.” “Yes, you like a woman’s eyes to drop before yours, as a sort of unconscious tribute to your greatness and your glory. A man may look at a woman with the calmest insolence, but she must only steal a glance at his face when he isn’t looking. I’m afraid India has corrupted you, Dick.” “What in the world has India got to do with it? Your remarks don’t seem to apply to any part of India with which I am acquainted.” “Very well, I withdraw them, then. I will only say that before you went there you preferred to regard woman as an angel high above you; now you object to think of her even as an equal.”