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comes along, and make the best of it!" Claire was silent, applauding the sentiment in the abstract, but shrinking from its application to the swarthy Major Carew. She stretched her hand across the table, and laid it caressingly on Cecil's arm. "_Pauvre_! Dear old girl! It's no use saying he wasn't worth having-- that's no comfort. When you have loved a man, it must be the worst blow of all to be obliged to despise him; but men are not all like that, Cecil; you mustn't condemn them all because of one bad specimen. I've a great admiration for men. As a whole they are _bigger_ than women--I mean mentally bigger--freer from mean little faults. As a rule they have a stricter sense of honour. That's an old-fashioned attitude, I suppose, but I don't care; it's been my experience, and I can only speak what I know. The average man _is_ honourable, _is_ faithful!" "Ah, you are speaking of your experience as a leisured girl--a girl living at home with her mother behind her. It's a different story when you are on your own. A man finds it pleasant enough to be friends with a bachelor girl, to take her about, give her little presents, and play the fairy prince generally. The dear little soul is so grateful"-- Cecil's voice took a bitter note--"so appreciative of his condescension! He can enjoy her society without being bothered with chaperons and conventions. It is really an uncommonly jolly way of passing the time. But, when it comes to _marrying_, does he want to _marry_ the bachelor girl?" Claire pushed her chair from the table, her face looked suddenly white and tired, there was a suspicious quiver in her voice. "Oh, Cecil, don't, don't! You are poisoning me again. Leave me _some_ faith! If I can't believe in my fellow-creatures, I'd rather die at once, and be done with it. It stifles me to breathe the atmosphere of distrust and suspicion. And it isn't true. There _are_ good men, who would be all the more chivalrous because a girl was alone. I know it! I'm sure of it! I refuse to believe that every man is a blackguard because you have had an unfortunate experience." Mary Rhodes stared, abashed. Since the night when Claire had implored her not to poison her mind, she had never seen her merry, easy-going companion so aroused; but for the moment regret was swamped in curiosity. Ostensibly Claire was arguing in the plural, but in reality she was defending a definite man; Cecil was sure of it; saw h
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