“Exactly, and for that reason you seek out Jones. You have a right to the companionship of the good fellow--that's what I'm going to advocate. I've advanced far enough to see that on the average in the present state of woman she is not a suitable companion for man--she has none of the qualities of a chum to which he is entitled. I'm not so blind but that I can see the faults of my own sex, particularly now that I have become so very masculine myself. Both sexes should have their rights, and that is the great policy I'm going to hammer at as long as I have Boswell's paper in charge. I wish you might see my editorial page for to-morrow; it is simply fine. I urge upon woman the necessity of joining in with her husband in all his pleasures whether she enjoys them or not. When he lights a cigar, let her do the same; when he calls for a cocktail, let her call for another. In time she will begin to understand him. He understands her pleasures, and often he joins in with them--opera, dances, lectures; she ought to do the same, and join in with him in his pleasures, and after a while they'll get upon a common basis, have their clubs together, and when that happy time comes, when either one goes out the other will also go, and their companionship will be perfect.” “But you objected to my calling you old chap when we first met,” said I. “Is that quite consistent?” “Of course,” retorted the lady. “We had never met before, and, besides, doctors do not always take their own medicine.” “But that women ought to become good fellows is what you're going to advocate, eh?” said I. “Yes,” replied Xanthippe. “It's excellent, don't you think?” “Superb,” I answered, “for Hades. It's just my idea of how things ought to be in Hades. I think, however, that we mortals will stick to the old plan for a little while yet; most of us prefer to marry wives rather than old chaps.” The remark seemed so to affect my visitor that I suddenly became conscious of a sense of loneliness. “I don't wish to offend you,” I said, “but I rather like to keep the two separate. Aren't you man enough yet to see the value of variety?” But there was no answer. The lady had gone. It was evident that she considered me unworthy of further attention. V. THE EDITING OF XANTHIPPE