lips. Was ever woman, I wonder, as true and faithful and soothing a friend to man as tobacco?
"Your sex ought to be better tempered than ours," I say; "for you are able to smoke away all your troubles and disappointments and annoyances, while we can only sit down and think."
"You have one great resource that is denied to us—you can weep."
"That is so cowardly. I always look upon tears as a refuge only to be fled to when everything else fails (I mean, of course, when I am put out), and of the two I would far rather storm."
"And yet," says Paul, "utterly as you can rout us by the sight of your tears, I prefer even them to being reviled by you—a woman's power is pretty well gone when she takes to scolding."
"Cleopatra kept hers well enough," I say, half to myself. "Now if I were you, I would far rather have a woman who was outrageous sometimes and sorry afterwards, than a meek, obstinate, crying creature who never forgot herself—or a grudge."
"Then you prefer Katherine to Bianca?"
"Infinitely; and I am certain I should have slapped Bianca even harder than Katherine did. She only insisted on her own way until she found some one with a stronger will; then she gavenin directly."
"And would you give in to any one?"
"If I were quite sure his ways were better than mine, if not I should take my own."
"You ought to take his whether you are sure or not."
"Indeed! I see the race of tyrants is not quite extinct."
"Or that of rebels!"
"There should be no question of 'giving in' or 'looking up,'" I say demurely. "Alfred de Musset says a woman should above all things be bon camarade; and between comrades there is equality, is there not?"
