success, but when it comes to 'feminology' you are sailing in unknown
waters. The study of women, my dear Abeuchadnezzar--"

"Peta," retorted Abeuchapeta, irritably.

"I stand corrected. The study of women, my dear Peter," said Morgan,
with a wink at Conrad, which fortunately the seventh-century pirate
did not see, else there would have been an open break--"the study of
women is more difficult than that of astronomy; there may be two
stars alike, but all women are unique. Because she was this, that,
or the other thing in your day does not prove that she is any one of
those things in our day--in fact, it proves the contrary. Why, I
venture even to say that no individual woman is alike."

"That's rather a hazy thought," said Kidd, scratching his head in a
puzzled sort of way.

"I mean that she's different from herself at different times," said
Morgan. "What is it the poet called her?--'an infinite variety
show,' or something of that sort; a perpetual vaudeville--a
continuous performance, as it were, from twelve to twelve."

"Morgan is right, admiral!" put in Conrad the corsair, acting
temporarily as bo'sun. "The times are sadly changed, and woman is no
longer what she was. She is hardly what she is, much less what she
was. The Roman Gynaeceum would be an impossibility to-day. You
might as well expect Delilah to open a barber-shop on board this boat
as ask any of these advanced females below-stairs to sew buttons on a
pirate's uniform after a fray, or to keep the fringe on his epaulets
curled. They're no longer sewing-machines--they are Keeley motors