and respect as wives and mothers--even loved, if you will, for a recreation--but as vital factors in a man's real life! My dear fellow, the idea is ridiculous--that life should be for his country and the development of his own soul----"
Michael Arranstoun laughed.
"Jolly old Mohammedan! You think women have none, I suppose!"
Henry Fordyce frowned, because it was rather true--but he denied the charge.
"Nothing of the sort. Merely, I see things at their proper balance and you cannot."
Michael leaned back in his chair; he was quieter for a moment.
"I only see what I want to see, Henry--and I am a savage--I cannot help it--we have always been so. When I fancy a woman, I must obtain her--when I want a horse, I must have it. It is always _must_--and we have not done so badly. We still possess our shoulders and chins and strength after eleven hundred years of it!" and he stretched out a splendid arm, with a force which could have felled an ox.
An undoubtedly fine specimen of British manhood he
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