hands. But a man has the full responsibility of his freedom,
cannot evade a question, can scarce be silent without rudeness,
must answer for his words upon the moment, and is not seldom left
face to face with a damning choice, between the more or less
dishonourable wriggling of Deronda and the downright woodenness of
Vernon Whitford.

But the superiority of women is perpetually menaced; they do not
sit throned on infirmities like the old; they are suitors as well
as sovereigns; their vanity is engaged, their affections are too
apt to follow; and hence much of the talk between the sexes
degenerates into something unworthy of the name. The desire to
please, to shine with a certain softness of lustre and to draw a
fascinating picture of oneself, banishes from conversation all that
is sterling and most of what is humorous. As soon as a strong
current of mutual admiration begins to flow, the human interest
triumphs entirely over the intellectual, and the commerce of words,
consciously or not, becomes secondary to the commencing of eyes.
But even where this ridiculous danger is avoided, and a man and
woman converse equally and honestly, something in their nature or
their education falsifies the strain. An instinct prompts them to
agree; and where that is impossible, to agree to differ. Should
they neglect the warning, at the first suspicion of an argument,
they find themselves in different hemispheres. About any point of
business or conduct, any actual affair demanding settlement, a
woman will speak and listen, hear and answer arguments, not only
with natural wisdom, but with candour and logical honesty. But if
the subject of debate be something in the air, an abstraction, an
excuse for talk, a logical Aunt Sally, then may the male debater
instantly abandon hope; he may employ reason, adduce facts, be