"Jump. From one thing to another. You'll arrive at a new thought by degrees, and you'll know how you got there. Women don't think like that. Cleone could not tell you why she thinks well and ill of you at once, but she does." "But surely if she reasons with herself she'll see how absurd--" "If she what?" "Reasons. I mean--" "You're mad," said Lady Malmerstoke with conviction. "Women don't reason. That's a man's part. Why, do you suppose that if Cleone thought as you think, and had a brain like a man's, you'd be in love with her? Of course you'd not. You'd not be able to feel your superiority over her. Don't tell me!" "I don't feel--" Her ladyship chuckled. "Oh, don't you, Philip? You think that Clo is reasonable-minded, and able to care for herself, needing no master?" "I--no, I don't!" "That's what I say. Goodness me, how blind you are! If you didn't consider that you had to care for Cleone and guard her from everyone else and herself, you wouldn't love her. Now don't be foolish!" Philip laughed ruefully. "You're a fount of wisdom, Lady Sally!" "Well, I should be at my age. I've had experience, you see, and I never was a fool." "Then--tell me what I am to do?" Lady Malmerstoke wagged an impressive finger at him. "Take that girl and shake her. Tell her you'll not be flouted. Tell her she's a little fool, and kiss her. And if she protests, go on kissing her. Dear me, what things I do say!" "Yes, but, dear Lady Sally, how am I to kiss her when she's as cold as ice--and--and so unapproachable?" "And why is she cold?" said her ladyship. "Tell me that!" "Because she--thinks me naught but an elegant trifler!" "Not a bit of it. Because you treat her gently and politely, and let her flout you. God bless my soul, women don't want gentle politeness! Not Cleone, at all events! They like a man to be brutal!" "Brutal?" "Well, not exactly. They like to feel he'll stand no airs and graces. Oh, they want gentleness, never fear! But they want to feel helpless. They want mastering, most of 'em. When you kiss the tips of Clo's fingers, and treat her as though you thought she was made o' porcelain, she thinks you're no man, and don't care for her." "She cannot! She--" "She don't know it, of course, but it's true. Be advised by me, Philip, and insist on having your way with her. Don't be finicky!" "It's very well, but she doesn't love me!" "Oh, drat the man!" said her ladyship. "You fatigue me! Go your own road, but don't blame me when everything goes awry. If you have made Clo miserable she'll do something mad. And now I've warned you. Oh, here is James, looking like a sulky bear! James, my good boy, I've left my handkerchief in another room. Will you fetch it for me, please? Over there, behind the curtain. Yes, shocking, isn't it? But 'twas only old Fotheringham, so you can tell your uncle, Philip." He rose and laughed down at her. "And will he master you, my lady?"