The sign of the
type in question is the determination--sometimes terrible in its
quiet intensity--to accept nothing of life but its pleasures, and to
secure these pleasures chiefly by the aid of your complaisant sex.
Young men of this class never do anything for themselves that they
can get other people to do for them, and it is the infatuation, the
devotion, the superstition of others that keeps them going. These
others in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred are women. What our
young friends chiefly insist upon is that some one else shall suffer
for them; and women do that sort of thing, as you must know,
wonderfully well." The Doctor paused a moment, and then he added
abruptly, "You have suffered immensely for your brother!"
This exclamation was abrupt, as I say, but it was also perfectly
calculated. The Doctor had been rather disappointed at not finding
his compact and comfortable little hostess surrounded in a more
visible degree by the ravages of Morris Townsend's immorality; but he
had said to himself that this was not because the young man had
spared her, but because she had contrived to plaster up her wounds.
They were aching there, behind the varnished stove, the festooned
engravings, beneath her own neat little poplin bosom; and if he could
only touch the tender spot, she would make a movement that would
betray her. The words I have just quoted were an attempt to put his
finger suddenly upon the place; and they had some of the success that
he looked for.
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