one forget occasionally that one is a woman, and be simply an intelligence?"
"I should say not! What do you make of hundreds of generations of inherited prejudices and ways of feeling, that colour your thought unconsciously? You can't get rid of that heritage for an instant. … You couldn't understand a man if you tried for a thousand years."
"'Wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother'! Do you think I shan't understand my son when he grows up?"
"No, you won't, and if you're wise you won't try. We like women best that don't pretend to understand us."
"'We'? Speak for yourself, Jack. There are plenty of men that don't believe in the doll's house. I shall see that Ronald Grange, when he grows up, has more modern ideas than you have!" And Teresa warbled frivolously:
"'Woman is the chosen
Ornament of home—
Man is what the beer is,
Woman is the foam.'"
When they talked ideas, they were always combative; and in his sentimental moods as well, Fairfax showed his conviction that Teresa was a charming creature, married to the wrong sort of
