"Look here, Hubbard," I cried, with a nicely assumed show of indignation, "I want to oblige you and I want to keep the peace between us, but I shan't be able to if you keep on defending her when you know as well as I----" "What?" he thundered. "That she is a butterfly!" I thundered back. "She is not!" he shouted. "She is!" I said. "You, you, you imbecile!" spluttered my poor friend. "I tell you once and for all that is only one phase of her. I don't like it, I admit," (he began to cool off), "but still it is only a phase. She is in reality a woman of great depth of character." (He was quite cool by this.) "I had a conversation with her the other night that astonished me. Of course, I have always known that she is an educated woman, but the extent of her knowledge had previously escaped me. She has a much more than superficial acquaintance with the modern forms of speculative philosophy. She has read Kant and Spencer and Nietzsche with understanding: and she is now engaged in the study of Egyptian history. You have interested her deeply in the subject." I shrugged my shoulders. "And from all this you conclude?" "That I have been an idiot not to recognise long ago that she is my intellectual equal. And I have treated her as if she were an irresponsible child." "But she is a woman." "Quite so," replied this converted woman-hater, "and because she is a woman, and such a woman, she has the power to bless the man fortunate enough to win her--her affection--as few men are blessed. Now you can appreciate my position. I have blindly sacrificed my chance. I----" "Pish!" I interrupted. "Tell her what you have told me and be blessed! You'll repent it all your life through." "It is too late," he groaned. "I have been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Pride, if nothing else, would always prevent her from forgiving me. She--liked me once, I think--but now----" He cleared his throat and forced a wry smile. "She looks upon me as her treasurer and friend. It was my own choice. I have no right to grumble." Then he burst out suddenly, "But it's damnable, Pinsent, damnable!" Lady Helen's medicine was working like a charm. I thought it best to let well enough alone. So I made a rude effort and changed the conversation. We soon reached our journey's end.