"Women interest me," said Hewet, who, sitting on the bed with his chin
resting on his knees, paid no attention to the undressing of Mr. Hirst.
"They're so stupid," said Hirst. "You're sitting on my pyjamas."
"I suppose they _are_ stupid?" Hewet wondered.
"There can't be two opinions about that, I imagine," said Hirst,
hopping briskly across the room, "unless you're in love--that fat woman
Warrington?" he enquired.
"Not one fat woman--all fat women," Hewet sighed.
"The women I saw to-night were not fat," said Hirst, who was taking
advantage of Hewet's company to cut his toe-nails.
"Describe them," said Hewet.
"You know I can't describe things!" said Hirst. "They were much like
other women, I should think. They always are."
"No; that's where we differ," said Hewet. "I say everything's different.
No two people are in the least the same. Take you and me now."
"So I used to think once," said Hirst. "But now they're all types. Don't
take us,--take this hotel. You could draw circles round the whole lot of
them, and they'd never stray outside."
("You can kill a hen by doing that"), Hewet murmured.
"Mr. Hughling Elliot, Mrs. Hughling Elliot, Miss Allan, Mr. and Mrs.
Thornbury--one circle," Hirst continued. "Miss Warrington, Mr. Arthur
Venning, Mr. Perrott, Evelyn M. another circle; then there are a whole
lot of natives; finally ourselves.
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