r at all events by
society. When they can no longer act on that assumption, interest and,
let us hope, an expanding sense of honour will lead them to see the
marriage contract, and all connected with it, in altogether a different
light."

He drank off a glass of water, listening the while to resonant
applause. There was still twenty minutes, and he decided to use the
time in offering solace to the army of women who, by force of mere
statistics, are fated to the frustration of their _raison d'etre_. On
this subject he had nothing very remarkable to say, and, indeed, the
maiden ladies who heard him must have felt that it all amounted to a
pitying shrug of the shoulders. But he could not speak otherwise than
vigorously, and at times his words were eloquent.

"We know not how things may improve in the future," (thus he
perorated), "but let celibate ladies of the present bear in mind that
the chances are enormously against their making a marriage worthy of
the name." ("Oh!" from some man at the back.) "Let them remember, too,
if they are disposed to altruism, that though most men manage to find a
wife, very few indeed, as things are, do not ultimately wish that they
had remained single." (A roar of laughter, and many protests.) "This
being so, let women who have no family of their own devote themselves,
whenever possible, to the generous and high task of training the new
female generation, so that they may help to mitigate one of the
greatest ills of civilized existence, and prepare for women of the
future the possibility of a life truly emancipated."

Denzil sat down with a glow of exulting triumph. His lecture was a
success, not a doubt of it. He saw the chairman rise, and heard slow,
languid phrases which contrasted strangely with his own fire and rush.
A vote of thanks was being proposed. When silence came, he was aware
of some fluster in the body of the hall; people were whispering,
tittering, turning round to look. Two persons had stood up with the
intention of seconding the vote of gratitude; one was Mr. Chown, the
other that lady who had a place in the middle of the assemblage, and
who seemed to be so well known. The Radical draper did not immediately
give way, but his neighbours reminded him of propriety. Quarrier had
just scrutinized the person of the lady about to speak, when her voice
fell upon his ears with a pleasant distinctness.

"As it is certainly right," she began, "that a woman should be one of
those