"You are most surprising this morning, father," she declared.
"I am perhaps misunderstood," he sighed, "perhaps have acquired a
reputation for greater callousness than I possess. Personally, I
love fighting. I was born a fighter, and I should find no
happier way of ending my life than fighting, but, to put it
bluntly, fighting is a man's job."
"What about women going to see fights at the National Sporting
Club?" Lady Cynthia asked curiously.
"It is their own affair, but if you ask my opinion I do not
approve of it," Sir Timothy replied. "I am indifferent upon the
subject, because I am indifferent upon the subject of the
generality of your sex," he added, with a little smile, "but I
simply hold that it is not a taste which should be developed in
women, and if they do develop it, it is at the expense of those
very qualities which make them most attractive."
Lady Cynthia took a cigarette from her case and leaned over to
Francis for a light.
"The world is changing," she declared. "I cannot bear many more
shocks. I fancied that I had written myself for ever out of Sir
Timothy's good books because of my confession just now."
He smiled across at her. His words were words of courteous
badinage, but Lady Cynthia was conscious of a strange little
sense of pleasure.
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