Not at the Ibsen club, quite the contrary. After all, what
can we do? You know what breaks up most clubs for men and women.
There's a quarrel--a scandal--cherchez la femme--always a woman at the
bottom of it. Well, we knew this when we founded the club; but we
noticed that the woman at the bottom of it was always a womanly woman.
The unwomanly women who work for their living and know how to take
care of themselves never give any trouble. So we simply said we
wouldn't have any womanly women; and when one gets smuggled in she has
to take care not to behave in a womanly way. We get on all right. (He
rises.) Come to lunch with me there tomorrow and see the place.
CUTHBERTSON (rising). No, he's engaged to me. But you can join us.
CHARTERIS. What hour?
CUTHBERTSON. Any time after twelve. (To Craven) It's at 90 Cork
street, at the other end of the Burlington Arcade.
CRAVEN (making a note). 90, you say. After twelve. (He suddenly
relapses into gloom.) By the bye, don't order anything special for me.
I'm not allowed wine--only Apollinaris. No meat either--only a scrap
of fish occasionally. I'm to have a short life, but not a merry one.
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