Chapter 19
The blood rushed to my face, and I stopped abruptly.
"Let us go back," I said.
"Why?"
"Because I do not know Miss Clare and do not want to know her. Literary women are my abhorrence,—they are always more or less unsexed."
"You are thinking of the 'New' women I suppose,—but you flatter them,—they never had any s*x to lose. The selfdegrading creatures who delineate their fictional heroines as wallowing in unchastity, and who write freely on subjects which men would hesitate to name, are unnatural hybrids of no-s*x. Mavis Clare is not one of them,—she is an 'oldfashioned' young woman. Mademoiselle Derino, the dancer, is 'unsexed,' but you did not object to her on that score; on the contrary I believe you have shown your appreciation of her talents by spending a considerable am
