Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman. People had started filling the hall: instrumentalists, overly conscientious parents. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. A wife formed part of his scheme of life, for several years he had been secretly but assiduously looking for her. Every other wall comprised bookcases, except where the doors appeared. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females.
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