Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a duck to water?” “You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?” Ennison said stiffly. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. They mean everything that women can mean—except submission. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. It was instantly answered by the deep note of St. Them young prigs is all alike.
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