Does it mean anything? That is the sort of jargon Gerald was full of, when I saw him last. But he'll get over it. Intellectual measles. Oxford's a fine place, but no mental drainage. SYLVESTER. I can form no opinion. I hadn't the advantage of a university training. COLONEL. I had. I was rusticated. We Cazenoves always were--till Gerald's time. But he'll redeem himself. We Cazenoves have always been men, except one. That's my sister, Caroline; and, by Jove, she's the next best thing--a woman. [_Rising, in his enthusiasm--the antimacassar slips on to the seat._ SYLVESTER. A real woman. COLONEL. Caroline's a heart of gold---- SYLVESTER. Yes, so you said. COLONEL. Did I? I beg your pardon. [_Sits on the antimacassar, instantly springs up, and flings it into a corner. Points to that covering SYLVESTER'S chair._] Throw that thing away! SYLVESTER. All right. I'm used to 'em. We grow 'em at our house. [_Looks round._] I might be sitting in my wife's boudoir! Same furniture, same flowers, same photographs--hallo, that's rather a pretty woman over there! [_Crosses._ COLONEL. A pretty woman, where? [_Crosses._] No, not my style! SYLVESTER. Ha! ha! COLONEL. What are you laughing at? SYLVESTER. My wife! I didn't recognize her. [_Goes about examining photographs._ COLONEL. Ten thousand pardons! I had no idea---- SYLVESTER. Bless me, my wife again! COLONEL [_looking_]. That's better. That's much better. SYLVESTER. It's an older photograph. Agnes was quite a woman when I married her, but she grows more and more ethereal. Philosophy doesn't seem very nourishing. COLONEL. She's a philosopher? SYLVESTER. Haven't you read her book? "Aspirations after a Higher Morality." COLONEL. The old morality's high enough for me. SYLVESTER. I've tried to read it, but I didn't succeed. However, I've cut the leaves and dropped cigar ash on the final chapter. Why, here she is again! COLONEL. _Three_ photographs? And you're not jealous? SYLVESTER. My dear Colonel, who am I to be jealous? COLONEL. Her husband, aren't you? SYLVESTER. Yes, I am Mrs. Sylvester's husband. I belong to my wife, but my wife doesn't belong to me. She is the property of the public. Directly I saw her photograph in a shop-window I realized the situation. People tell me I've a wife to be proud of; but they're wrong. Mrs. Sylvester is not my wife; I am her husband. COLONEL [_taking up a book_]. This is what comes of educating women. We have created a Frankenstein. "Man, the Betrayer--A Study of the Sexes--By Enid Bethune." SYLVESTER. Oh, I know her. She comes to our house. COLONEL. And has a man betrayed her? SYLVESTER. Never. Not likely to. COLONEL. That's what's the matter, perhaps? SYLVESTER. Her theory is, that boys ought to be girls, and young men should be maids. [_COLONEL throws down the book._] That's how she'd equalize the sexes. COLONEL. Pshaw! [_Takes up another book._] "Ye Foolish Virgins!--A Remonstrance--by Victoria Vivash."