Jack: "Even reformers fall in love."
Mrs. Jack: "Not unless they can find a woman to reform. Egeria is too nearly perfect to attract Atlas; besides, what does it matter, anyway?"
Jack: "It matters a good deal if it makes him unhappy; he is too good a fellow."
Mrs. Jack: "I've lived twenty-five years and I have never seen a man's unhappiness last more than six months, and I have never seen a woman make a wound in a man's heart that another woman couldn't heal. The modern young man is as tough as--well, I can't think of anything tough enough to compare him to. I've always thought it a pity that the material of which men's hearts is made couldn't be utilized for manufacturing purposes; think of its value for hinges, or for the toes of little boys' boots, or the heels of their stockings!"
Jack: "I should think you had just been jilted, my dear; how has Atlas offended you?"
Mrs. Jack: "He hasn't offended me; I love him, but I think he is too absent-minded lately."
Jack: "And is Egeria invited to join us in order that she may bring his mind forcibly back to the present?"
Mrs. Jack: "Not at all; I consider Atlas as safe as a--as a church, or a dictionary, or a guide-post, or anything; he is too much interested in tenement-house reform to fall in love with a woman."
Jack: "I think a sensible woman wouldn't be out of place in Atlas'schemes for the regeneration of humanity."
Mrs. Jack: "No; but Egeria isn't a--yes, she is, too; I can't deny it, but I don't believe she knows anything about the sweating system, and she adores Ossian and Fiona Macleod, so she probably won't appeal to Atlas in his present state, which, to my mind, is unnecessarily intense. The service of humanity renders a young man perfectly callous to feminine charms. It's the proverbial safety of numbers, I suppose, for it's always the individual that leads a man into temptation, if you notice, never the universal;--Woman, not women. I have studied Atlas profoundly, and he is nearly as blind as a bat. He paid no attention to my new travelling-dress last week, and yesterday I wore four rings on my middle finger and two on each thumb all day long, just to see if I could catch his eye and hold his attention. I couldn't."
Jack: "That may all be; a man may be blind to the charms of all women but one (and precious lucky if he is), but he is particularly keen where the one is concerned."
Mrs. Jack: "Atlas isn't keen about anything but the sweating system. You needn't worry about him; your favourite Stevenson says that a wet rag goes safely by the fire, and if a man is blind, he cannot expect to be much impressed by romantic scenery. Atlas momentarily a wet rag and temporarily blind. He told me on Wednesday that he intended to leave all his money to one of those long-named regenerating societies--I can't remember which."
Jack: "And it was on Wednesday you sent for Egeria. I see."
Mrs. Jack (haughtily): "Then you see a figment of your own imagination; there is nothing else to see. There! I've packed everything that belongs to me, while you've been smoking and gazing at that railway guide. When do we start?"
Jack: "11.59. We arrive in Bideford at 4.40, and have a twelve-mile drive to Clovelly. I will telegraph for a conveyance to the inn and for five bedrooms and a sitting-room."
Mrs. Jack: "I hope that Egeria's train will be on time, and I hope that it will rain so that I can wear my five-guinea mackintosh. It poured every day when I was economizing and doing without it."
Jack: "I never could see the value of economy that ended in extra extravagance."
Mrs. Jack: "Very likely; there are hosts of things you never can see, Jackie. But there she is, stepping out of a hansom, the darling! What a sweet gown! She's infinitely more interesting than the sweating system."
We thought we were a merry party before Egeria joined us, but she certainly introduced a new element of interest. I could not help thinking of it as we were flying about the Bristol station, just before entering the first-class carriage engaged by our host.
Tommy had bought us rosebuds at a penny each; Atlas had a bundle of illustrated papers under his arm--The Sketch, Black and White, The Queen, The Lady's Pictorial, and half a dozen others. The guard was pasting an "engaged" placard on the carriage window and piling up six luncheon-baskets in the corner on the cushions, and speedily we were off.