patient student. If he is of a scientific turn of mind, with a fondness for original research, he may even take a melancholy pleasure in the analysis.

Thus she learns that he thought he had loved, until he cared for her, but in the light of the new passion he sees clearly that the others were mere, idle flirtations. To her surprise, she also discovers that he has loved her a long time but has never dared to speak of it before, and that this feeling, compared with the others, is as wine unto water. In her presence he is uplifted, exalted, and often afraid, for very love of her.

Next to a proposal, the most interesting thing in the world to a woman is this kind of analysis. If a man is clever at it, he may change a decided refusal to a timid promise to "think about it." The man who hesitates may be lost, but the woman who hesitates is surely won.

In the beginning, the student is often perplexed by the magnitude of the task which lies before her. Later, she comes to know that men, like cats, need only to be stroked in the right direction. The problem thus becomes a question of direction, which is seldom as simple as it looks.

Yet men, as a class, are easier to understand than women, because they are less emotional. It is emotion which complicates the personal equation with radicals and quadratics, and life which proceeds upon predestined lines soon becomes monotonous and loses its charm. The involved x in the equation continually postpones the definite result, which may often be surmised, but never achieved.

Still, there is little doubt as to the proper method, for some of the radicals must necessarily appear in the result. Man's conceit is his social foundation and when the vulnerable spot is once found in the armour of Achilles, the overthrow of the strenuous Greek is near at hand.

There is nothing in the world as harmless and as utterly joyous as man's conceit. The woman who will not pander to it is ungracious indeed.

Man's interest in himself is purely altruistic and springs from an unselfish desire to please. He values physical symmetry because one's first impression of him is apt to be favourable. Manly accomplishments and evidences of good breeding are desirable for the same reason, and he likes to think his way of doing things is the best, regardless of actual effectiveness.

For instance, there seems to be no good reason why a man's way of sharpening a pencil is any better than a woman's. It is difficult to see just why it is advisable to cover the thumb with powdered graphite, and expose that useful member to possible amputation by a knife directed uncompromisingly toward it, when the pencil might be pointed the other way, the risk of amputation avoided, and the shavings and pulverised graphite left safely to the action of gravitation and centrifugal force. Yet the entire race of men refuse to see the true value of the feminine method, and, indeed, any man would rather sharpen any woman's pencil than see her do it herself.

It pleases a man very much to be told that he "knows the world," even though his acquaintance be limited to the flesh and the devil—a gentleman, by the way, who is much misunderstood and whose faults are persistently exaggerated. But man's supreme conceit is in regard to his personal appearance. Let a single entry in a laboratory note-book suffice for proof.

Time, evening. Man is reading a story in a current magazine to the Girl he is calling upon.

Man. "Are you interested in this?"

Girl. "Certainly, but I can think of other things too, can't I?"

Man. "That depends on the 'other things.' What are they?"

Girl. (Calmly.) "I was just thinking that you are an extremely handsome man, but of course you know that."

Man. (Crimsoning to his temples.) "You flatter me!" (Resumes reading.)

Girl. (Awaits developments.)

Man. (After a little.) "I didn't know you thought I was good-looking."

Girl. (Demurely.) "Didn't you?"

Man. (Clears his throat and continues the story.)

Man. (After a few minutes.) "Did you ever hear anybody else say that?"

Girl. "Say what?"

Man. "Why, that I was—that I was—well, good-looking, you know?"

Girl. "Oh, yes! Lots of people!"

Man. (After reading half a page.) "I don't think this is so very interesting, do you?"

Girl. "No, it isn't. It doesn't carry out the promise of its beginning."

Man. (Closes magazine and wanders aimlessly toward the mirror in the mantel.)

Man. "Which way do you like my hair; this way, or parted in the middle?"

Girl. "I don't know—this way, I guess. I've never seen it parted in the middle."

Man. (Taking out pocket comb and rapidly parting his hair in the middle.) "There! Which way do you like it?"

Girl. (Judicially.) "I don't know. It's really a very hard question to decide."

Man. (Reminiscently.) "I've gone off my looks a good deal lately. I used to be a lot better looking than I am now."

Girl. (Softly.) "I'm glad I didn't know you then."

Man. (In apparent astonishment.) "Why?"

Girl. "Because I might not have been heart whole, as I am now."

(Long silence.)

Man. (With sudden enthusiasm.) "I'll tell you, though, I really do look well in evening dress."

Girl. "I haven't a doubt of it, even though I've never seen you wear it."

Man. (After brief meditation.) "Let's go and hear Melba next week, will you? I meant to ask you when I first came in, but we got to reading."

Girl. "I shall be charmed."

Next day, Girl gets a box of chocolates and a dozen American Beauties—in February at that.

Tell a man he has a dimple and he will say "where?" in pleased surprise, meanwhile putting his finger straight into it. He has studied that dimple in the mirror too many times to be unmindful of its geography.

Let the woman dearest to a man say, tenderly: "You were so handsome to-night, dear—I was proud of you." See his face light up with noble, unselfish joy, because he has given such pleasure to others!

All the married men at evening receptions have gone because they "look so well in evening dress," and because "so few men can wear dress clothes really well." In truth, it does require distinction and grace of bearing, if a man would not be mistaken for a waiter.

Man's conceit is not love of himself but of his fellow-men. The man who is in love with himself need not fear that any woman will ever become a serious rival. Not unfrequently, when a man asks a woman to marry him, he means that he wants her to help