didn't care for Mrs. Tremain in that sort of way at all. She was simply an innocent child, with no knowledge of the world whatever, such as he and I possessed. Her husband—and in this I quite agreed with him—had two bad qualities: in the first place he was too easy-going at the present, and in the second place he was one of those quiet men who would do something terrible if once he were aroused.
One day, as young Howard and I walked the deck together, he burst out with this extraordinary sentiment:
"All women," he said, "are canting hypocrites."
"When a man says that," I answered, "he means some particular woman. What woman have you in your eye, Howard?"
"No, I mean all women. All the women on board this boat, for instance."
"Except one, of course," I said.
"Yes," he answered, "except one. Look at the generality of women," he cried bitterly; "especially those who are what they call philanthropic and good. They will fuss and mourn over some drunken wretch who cannot be reclaimed and would be no use if he could, and they will spend their time and sympathy over some creature bedraggled in the slums, whose only hope can be
