Chapter XII

lthatofconfessingIwaswrong,he’stherightmanintherightplace.It’sextraordinaryhowpeopletookuptohimandrespecthimalready....Igiveyoumywordforit,Berthahasreasontocongratulateherself—agirldoesn’tpickupahusbandlikethateverydayoftheweek.” MissLeysmileditwasagreatrelieftofindthatshereallywasnomorefoolishthanmostpeople(soshemodestlyputit),foradoubtonthesubjecthadgivenhersomeuneasiness. “Soeveryonethinksthey’reashappyasturtle-doves?” “Why,sotheyare,”criedthedoctor“surelyyoudon’tthinkotherwise?” MissLeyneverconsidereditadutytodispeltheerrorofherfellow-creatures,andwhenevershehadalittlepieceofknowledge,vastlypreferredkeepingittoherself. “I?”sheansweredtothedoctor’squestion.“Imakeapointofthinkingwiththemajority—it’stheonlywaytogetareputationforwisdom!”ButMissLey,afterall,wasonlyhuman.“Whichdoyouthinkisthepredominantpartner?”sheasked,smilingdrily. “Theman,asheshouldbe,”grufflyrepliedthedoctor. “Doyouthinkhehasmorebrains?” “Ah,you’reafeminist,”saidDr.Ramsay,withgreatscorn. “Mydeardoctor,myglovesaresixes,andperceivemyshoes.”Sheputoutfortheoldgentleman’sinspectionaverypointed,high-heeledshoe,displayingatthesametimetheelaborateopen-workofasilkstocking. “Doyouintendmetotakethatasanacknowledgmentofthesuperiorityofman?” “Heavens,howargumentativeyouare!”MissLeylaughed,forshewasgettingintoherownparticularelement.“Iknewyouwishedtoquarrelwithme.Doyoureallywantmyopinion?” “Yes.” “Well,itseemstomethatifyoutaketheverycleverwomanandsetherbesideanordinaryman,youprovenothing.Thatishowwomenmostlyargue.WeplaceGeorgeEliot(who,bytheway,hadnothingofthewomanbutpetticoats—andthosenotalways)besideplainJohnSmith,andasktragicallyifsuchawomancanbeconsideredinferiortosuchaman.Butthat’ssilly!ThequestionI’vebeenaskingmyselfforthelastfive-and-twentyyearsis,whethertheaveragefoolofawomanisagreaterfoolthantheaveragefoolofaman.” “Andtheanswer?” “Well,uponmyword,Idon’tthinkthere’smuchtochoosebetweenthem.” “Thenyouhaven’treallyanopiniononthesubjectatall?”criedthedoctor. “ThatiswhyIgiveityou.” “Hm!”gruntedDr.Ramsay.“AndhowdoesthatapplytotheCraddocks?” “Itdoesn’tapplytothem....Idon’tthinkBerthaisafool.” “Shecouldn’tbe,havinghadthediscretiontobebornyourniece,eh?” “Why,doctor,you’regrowingquitepert.” TheyhadfinishedthetourofthegardenandMrs.Ramsaywasseeninthedrawing-room,biddingBerthagood-by. “Now,seriously,MissLey,”saidthedoctor,“they’requitehappy,aren’tthey?Everyonethinksso.” “Everyoneisalwaysright,”saidMissLey. “Andwhatisyouropinion?” “Goodheavens,whataninsistentmanitis!Well,Dr.Ramsay,allIwouldsuggestisthat—forBertha,youknow,thebookoflifeiswrittenthroughoutinitalicsforEdwarditisallinthebigroundhandofthecopybookheadings....Don’tyouthinkitwillmakethereadingofthebooksomewhatdifficult?”