“I think, if I were you, my dear boy, I should choose a soldier.  You know your poor grandfather, who ran away to America with that wicked Mrs. Featherly, the banker’s wife, was a soldier, and so was your poor cousin Robert, who lost eight thousand pounds at Monte Carlo.  I have always felt singularly drawn towards soldiers, even as a girl; though your poor dear uncle could not bear them.  You will find many allusions to soldiers and men of war in the Old Testament (see Jer. xlviii. 14).  Of course one does not like to think of their fighting and killing each other, but then they do not seem to do that sort of thing nowadays.”

“So much for the old lady,” said MacShaughnassy, as he folded up the letter and returned it to his pocket.  “What says culture?”

Brown produced from his cigar-case a letter addressed in a bold round hand, and read as follows: 

“What a curious coincidence!  A few of us were discussing this very subject last night in Millicent Hightopper’s rooms, and I may tell you at once that our decision was unanimous in favour of soldiers.  You see, my dear Selkirk, in human nature the attraction is towards the opposite.  To a milliner’s apprentice a poet would no doubt be satisfying; to a woman of intelligence he would he an unutterable bore.  What the intellectual woman requires in man is not something to argue with, but something to look at.  To an empty-headed woman I can imagine the soldier type proving vapid and uninteresting; to the woman of mind he represents her ideal of man—­a creature strong, handsome, well-dressed, and not too clever.”

“That gives us two votes for the army,” remarked MacShaughnassy, as Brown tore his sister’s letter in two, and threw the pieces into the waste-paper basket.  “What says the common-sensed girl?”

“First catch your common-sensed girl,” muttered Jephson, a little grumpily, as it seemed to me.  “Where do you propose finding her?”

“Well,” returned MacShaughnassy, “I looked to find her in Miss Medbury.”

As a rule, the mention of Miss Medbury’s name brings a flush of joy to Jephson’s face; but now his features wore an expression distinctly approaching a scowl.

“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.