y drink, and
that sort of thing--"

"Yes, lots of them drink, men and women. And as for flirting--they
don't call it flirting, but in their way I dare say it's very much the
same thing. Only, in our part of the country, a man who flirts, if you
call it so, gets just as bad a name as a woman. You see, they have all
had about the same bringing up. But with us it's quite different. A girl
is brought up in a cage, like a turtle dove, with nothing to do except
to be good, while a boy is sent to a public school when he is eleven or
twelve, which is exactly the same as sending him to hell, except that he
has the certainty of getting away."

"But boys don't learn to flirt at Eton," observed the young girl.

"Well--no," answered Johnstone. "But they learn everything else, except
Latin and Greek, and they go to a private tutor to learn those things
before they go to the university."

"You mean that they learn to drink and gamble, and all that?" asked
Clare.

"Oh--more or less--a little of everything that does no good--and then
you expect us afterwards to be the same as you are, who have been
brought up by your mothers at home. It isn't fair, you know."

"No," answered Clare, yielding. "It isn't fair. That strikes me as the
best argument you have used yet. But it doesn't make it right, for all
that. And why shouldn't men be brought up to be good, just as women
are?"

Brook laughed.

"That's quite another matter. Only a paternal government could do
that--or a maternal government. We haven't got either, so we have to do
the best we can. I only state the fact, and you are obliged to admit it.
I can't go back to the reason. The fact remains. In certain ways, at a
certain age, all men as a rule are bad, and all women, on the whole, are
good. Most of you know it, and you judge us accordingly and make
allowances. But you yourself don't seem inclined to be merciful. Perhaps
you'll be less hard-hearted when you are older."

"I'm not hard-hearted!" exclaimed Clare, indignantly. "I'm only just.
And I shall always be the same, I'm sure."

"If I were a Frenchman," said Brook, "I should be polite, and say that I
hoped so. As I'm not, and as it would be rude to say that I didn't
believe it, I'll say nothing. Only to be what you call just, isn't the
way to be liked, you know."

"I don't want to be liked," Clare answered, rather sharply. "I hate what
are called popular people!"

"So do I. They are generally awful bores, don't you k