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Mannish Young Men.

I won't say anything about those mannish young cosmopolities who are just beginning to handle a razor with confidence, and have at last succeeded in educating a downy moustache in the way it should lie, who are apt at bullying their sisters, and who talk with the scorn of advanced virility of “How absurd it is to give a vote to girls, don't-cher-know, I will have compassion upon them because they know only too well that their sisters can beat them at almost everything mental or physical, except cricket, football, rowing, smoking cigarettes, and slang; and because they know in their heart of hearts that they would rather meet the Tantanoola tiger than a bevy of bright girls bent on a mischievous tease and that in conversation with a clever girl, who is not “a sweet girl graduate,” they find it as difficult to get anything except the most veneered common-places out of what they are pleased to call their brains as to know how to comfortably dispose of their hands. Their opinion on this question of “Women as Citizens” does not count—well, not for much.

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