to do with Shigramitish women? She merely caught my
attention for a minute, and I wondered at the attraction that a dowd has
for a certain type of man. I expected to see her walk out of her clothes
until I looked at her eyes.'

'Hooks and eyes, surely,' drawled Mrs. Mallowe.

'Don't be clever, Polly. You make my head ache. And round this hayrick
stood a crowd of men a positive crowd!'

'Perhaps they also expected.'

'Polly, don't be Rabelaisian!'

Mrs. Mallowe curled herself up comfortably on the sofa, and turned her
attention to the sweets. She and Mrs. Hauksbee shared the same house
at Simla; and these things befell two seasons after the matter of Otis
Yeere, which has been already recorded.

Mrs. Hauksbee stepped into the verandah and looked down upon the Mall,
her forehead puckered with thought.

'Hah!' said Mrs. Hauksbee shortly. 'Indeed!'

'What is it?' said Mrs. Mallowe sleepily.

'That dowd and The Dancing Master to whom I object.'

'Why to The Dancing Master? He is a middle-aged gentleman, of reprobate
and romantic tendencies, and tries to be a friend of mine.'

'Then make up your mind to lose him. Dowds cling by nature, and I should
imagine that this animal how terrible her bonnet looks from above! is
specially clingsome.'

'She is welcome to The Dancing Master so far as I am concerned. I never
could take an interest in a monotonous liar. The frustrated aim of his
life is to persuade people that he is a bachelor.'

'O-oh! I think I've met that sort of man before. And isn't he?'

'No. He confided that to me a few days ago. Ugh! Some men ought to be
killed.'

'What happened then?'

'He posed as the horror of horrors a misunderstood man. Heaven knows the
femme incomprise is sad enough and bad enough but the other thing!'

'And so fat too! I should have laughed in his face. Men seldom confide
in me. How is it they come to you?'

'For the sake of impressing me with their careers in the past. Protect
me from men with confidences!'

'And yet you encourage them?'

'What can I do? They talk, I listen, and they vow that I am sympathetic.
I know I always profess astonishment even when the plot is of the most
old possible.'

'Yes. Men are so unblushingly explicit if they are once allowed to talk,
whereas women's confidences are full of reservations and fibs, except--'

'When they go mad and babble of the Unutter-abilities after a week's
acquaintance. Really, if you come to consider, we know a g