"May I come in?" said she, framing herself in the open window, with a
background of green sward and blue sky. "I feel like an invader deep in
an enemy's country."
"It is a very welcome invasion, ma'am," said he, clearing his throat and
pulling at his high collar. "Try this garden chair. What is there that
I can do for you? Shall I ring and let Mrs. Denver know that you are
here?"
"Pray do not trouble, Admiral. I only looked in with reference to our
little chat this morning. I wish that you would give us your powerful
support at our coming meeting for the improvement of the condition of
woman."
"No, ma'am, I can't do that." He pursed up his lips and shook his
grizzled head.
"And why not?"
"Against my principles, ma'am."
"But why?"
"Because woman has her duties and man has his. I may be old-fashioned,
but that is my view. Why, what is the world coming to? I was saying to
Dr. Walker only last night that we shall have a woman wanting to command
the Channel Fleet next."
"That is one of the few professions which cannot be improved," said Mrs.
Westmacott, with her sweetest smile. "Poor woman must still look to man
for protection."
"I don't like these new-fangled ideas, ma'am. I tell you honestly that
I don't. I like discipline, and I think every one is the better for
it. Women have got a great deal which they had not in the days of our
fathers. They have universities all for themselves, I am told, and there
are women doctors, I hear. Surely they should rest contented. What more
can they want?"
"You are a sailor, and sailors are always chivalrous. If you could see
how things really are, you would change your opinion. What are the poor
things to do? There are so many of them and so few things to which they
can turn their hands. Governesses? But there are hardly any situations.
Music and drawing? There is not one in fifty who has any special talent
in that direction. Medicine? It is still surrounded with difficulties
for women, and it takes many years and a small fortune to qualify.
Nursing? It is hard work ill paid, and none but the strongest can stand
it. What would you have them do then, Admiral? Sit down and starve?"
"Tut, tut! It is not so bad as that."
"The pressure is terrible. Advertise for a lady companion at ten
shillings a week, which is less than a cook's wage, and see how many
answers you get. There is no hope, no outlook, for these struggling
thousands. Life is a dull, sordid struggle, leading down to a cheerless
old age. Yet when we try to bring some little ray of hope, some
chance, however distant, of something better, we are told by chivalrous
gentlemen that it is against their principles to help."