‘Don’t you think,’ said he, breaking the angry silence which on her part had supervened, ‘that the best way of securing your ends would be for men and women to work together, and----’ ‘I don’t believe in men’s help in that matter. They are too thoroughly and naturally selfish ever to give real help in such a cause.’ ‘Without help you can do nothing,’ he said composedly. ‘Can we not?’ she replied, setting her lips. ‘I don’t think that any number of women agitating, and making speeches, will answer the purpose. The sort of help I mean is such as would be given by, for instance, husband and wife practically showing how much they had the subject at heart, by working together and giving in their lives a specimen of their doctrines. It is not a question that will ever be settled by public meetings and petitions. It must grow and evolve, as other social conditions evolve--gradually!’ ‘Husband and wife!’ said Helena, with a sneer--a sneer so bitter and unmistakable as to startle him. ‘That is a relation I have put entirely out of my calculations in this matter. I don’t believe in the existence of husbands who will give up, and help their wives. I have been able to study the subject remarkably well....’ (‘Mr. Spenceley sits upon Mrs. Spenceley, and the redoubtable Frederick sits upon them all,’ thought Sebastian.) ‘And the women who wish to improve their condition must put all such foolish ideas aside, and feel, as I do, that they can never be tempted into accepting any such delusory fancies.’ ‘You feel that?’ he said, smiling. ‘Yes, I do--to the bottom of my heart.’ Helena spoke with emphasis; her eyes flashing, her cheek flushing. She was very handsome; she was more, splendidly beautiful; ‘but how untrained, how unreasonable,’ thought Sebastian. ‘How different this heat and prejudice from the calm, well-balanced judgment, the clear, philosophical mind, of that other girl, scarcely older than herself. This raging against the weakness and selfishness of men was very short-sighted, and rather vulgar, was it not?’ All he said, however, was, ‘I am glad you feel so independent. It must give you a sense of superiority.’ ‘I never think about such things. I call it vanity to be always wondering whether you are superior to other people.’ She rose and went across the room to talk to Mrs. Mallory. Very soon she was discussing the merits of a new knitting-pattern, just as if no such thing as women’s rights had ever been heard of. When she had gone, and Hugo had retired, after fervently expressing his opinion that she was the loveliest, most fascinating, _schönste, herrlichste_ person he had ever seen, Mrs. Mallory introduced her intended remarks upon her favourite. Did not Sebastian think her very lovely? Yes; she certainly was an exquisitely beautiful girl. And intelligent, too? Undoubtedly; but there was a certain sameness about her animation. She seemed to rave a good deal upon one subject.