It was late when Mr. Barker found Claudius scribbling equations on a
sheet of the hotel letter-paper. The Doctor looked up pleasantly at his
friend. He could almost fancy he had missed his society a little; but
the sensation was too novel a one to be believed genuine.

"Did you find your friends?" he inquired.

"Yes, by some good luck. It is apt to be the other people one finds, as
a rule."

"Cynicism is not appropriate to your character, Mr. Barker."

"No. I hate cynical men. It is generally affectation, and it is always
nonsense. But I think the wrong people have a way of turning up at the
wrong moment." After a pause, during which Mr. Barker lighted a cigar
and extended his thin legs and trim little feet on a chair in front of
him, he continued:

"Professor, have you a very strong and rooted dislike to the society of
women?"

Assailed by this point-blank question, the Doctor put his bit of paper
inside his book, and drumming on the table with his pencil, considered a
moment. Mr. Barker puffed at his cigar with great regularity.

"No," said Claudius at last, "certainly not. To woman man owes his life,
and to woman he ought to owe his happiness. Without woman civilisation
would be impossible, and society would fall to pieces."