'That story about our little grocer friend,' she said--'it is rather
interesting to me. Why did he leave her and run away--do you know?'
Jeanne shrugged her ample shoulders. 'Oh! the old story, Madame,'
she answered, with a short laugh. 'Who was she?' asked my friend.
'The wife of Monsieur Savary, the wheelwright, as good a husband as
ever a woman had. It's been going on for months, the hussy!'
'Thank you, that will do, Jeanne.' She turned again to me so soon
as Jeanne had left the room. 'My dear,' she said, 'whenever I see a
bad man, I peep round the corner for the woman. Whenever I see a
bad woman, I follow her eyes; I know she is looking for her mate.
Nature never makes odd samples.'"
"I cannot help thinking," said the Philosopher, "that a good deal of
harm is being done to the race as a whole by the overpraise of
women."
"Who overpraises them?" demanded the Girton Girl. "Men may talk
nonsense to us--I don't know whether any of us are foolish enough to
believe it--but I feel perfectly sure that when they are alone most
of their time is occupied in abusing us."
"That is hardly fair," interrupted the Old Maid.
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