But if a man should join in the
conversation, both women would stamp truth underfoot as though it were a
venomous reptile.
Men can be sincere both with themselves and others; but women cannot.
They are corrupted from birth. Later on, education, intercourse with
other women and finally marriage, corrupt them still more.
A woman may love a man more than her own life; may sacrifice her time,
her health, her existence to him. But if she is wholly a woman, she
cannot give him her confidence.
She cannot, because she dares not.
In the same way a man--for a certain length of time--can love without
measure. He can then be unlocked like a cabinet full of secret drawers
and pigeonholes, of which we hold the keys. He discloses himself, his
present and his past. A woman, even in the closest bonds of love, never
reveals more of herself than reason demands.
Her modesty differs entirely from that of a male. She would rather be
guilty of incest than reveal to a man the hidden thoughts which
sometimes, without the least scruple, she will confide to another woman.
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