"Oh!" he replied, "did you? Well, then, the common-sensed girl loves the
military also."
"By Jove!" exclaimed MacShaughnassy, "what an extraordinary thing. What
reason does she give?"
"That there's a something about them, and that they dance so divinely,"
answered Jephson, shortly.
"Well, you do surprise me," murmured MacShaughnassy, "I am astonished."
Then to me he said: "And what does the young married woman say? The
same?"
"Yes," I replied, "precisely the same."
"Does _she_ give a reason?" he asked.
"Oh yes," I explained; "because you can't help liking them."
There was silence for the next few minutes, while we smoked and thought.
I fancy we were all wishing we had never started this inquiry.
That four distinctly different types of educated womanhood should, with
promptness and unanimity quite unfeminine, have selected the soldier as
their ideal, was certainly discouraging to the civilian heart. Had they
been nursemaids or servant girls, I should have expected it. The worship
of Mars by the Venus of the white cap is one of the few vital religions
left to this devoutless age. A year or two ago I lodged near a barracks,
and the sight to be seen round its huge iron gates on Sunday afternoons I
shall never forget. The girls began to assemble about twelve o'clock.
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