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"But I don't care if you are. I don't care what any one thinks of me. 　　Just because one's interested and likes to be friends with men,and talk to them as one talks to women, one's called a flirt.""But Miss Murgatroyd--""I wish you'd call me Evelyn," she interrupted. 　　"After ten proposals do you honestly think that men are the sameas women?""Honestly, honestly,--how I hate that word! It's always used by prigs,"cried Evelyn. "Honestly I think they ought to be. That's what'sso disappointing. Every time one thinks it's not going to happen,and every time it does.""The pursuit of Friendship," said Hewet. "The title of a comedy.""You're horrid," she cried. "You don't care a bit really. 　　You might be Mr. Hirst.""Well," said Hewet, "let's consider. Let us consider--" He paused,because for the moment he could not remember what it was that theyhad to consider. He was far more interested in her than in her story,for as she went on speaking his numbness had disappeared,and he was conscious of a mixture of liking, pity, and distrust. 　　"You've promised to marry both Oliver and Perrott?" he concluded. 　　"Not exactly promised," said Evelyn. "I can't make up my mind which Ireally like best. Oh how I detest modern life!" she flung off. 　　"It must have been so much easier for the Elizabethans! I thoughtthe other day on that mountain how I'd have liked to be one ofthose colonists, to cut down trees and make laws and all that,instead of fooling about with all these people who think one's justa pretty young lady. Though I'm not. I really might _do_ something."She reflected in silence for a minute. Then she said: 　　"I'm afraid right down in my heart that Alfred Perrot _won't_ do. 　　He's not strong, is he?""Perhaps he couldn't cut down a tree," said Hewet. "Have younever cared for anybody?" he asked. 　　"I've cared for heaps of people, but not to marry them," she said.

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