In love, as in all things, indecision spells ruination. For

There is a curious antagonism between the sexes. They are in a manner
foes, not friends. The successful wooer is the captor, the raptor; the
bride is the capture, the rapture. (1) And

Even she who is minded to be caught will not spare her huntsman the ardor
of the chase, and lightly esteems him who imagines she is to be lightly
won.

In the chess-like game of love-making, no woman plays for check-mate: the
game interests her too much to bring it to a finish. What pleases her
most is stale-mate, where, though the King cannot be captured, the
captress can maneuver without end.

A man imagines he wins by strenuous assault. The woman knows the victory
was due to surrender.

(1) Etymologically as well as metaphorically--and veritably.

* * *

Wouldst thou ask ought of a woman? Question her eyes: they are vastly
more voluble than her tongue. Indeed,

There is no question too subtle, too delicate, too recondite, or too
rash, for human eyes to ask or answer. And

He who has not learned the language of the eyes, has yet to learn the