CAPTAIN. It's risky to take anything on good faith where a woman is
concerned.

DOCTOR. Oh, there are so many kinds of women.

CAPTAIN. Modern investigations have pronounced that there is only
one kind! Lately I have recalled two instances in my life that make
me believe this. When I was young I was strong and, if I may boast,
handsome. Once when I was making a trip on a steamer and sitting
with a few friends in the saloon, the young stewardess came and
flung herself down by me, burst into tears, and told us that her
sweetheart was drowned. We sympathized with her, and I ordered some
champagne. After the second glass I touched her foot; after the
fourth her knee, and before morning I had consoled her.

DOCTOR. That was just a winter fly.

CAPTAIN. Now comes the second instance--and that was a real summer
fly. I was at Lyskil. There was a young married woman stopping
there with her children, but her husband was in town. She was
religious, had extremely strict principles, preached morals to me,
and was, I believe, entirely honorable. I lent her a book, two
books, and when she was leaving, she returned them, strange to say!
Three months later, in those very books I found her card with a
declaration on it. It was innocent, as innocent its it declaration
of love can be from a married woman to a strange man who never made
any advances. Now comes the moral: Just don't have too much faith.

DOCTOR. Don't have too little faith either.