Samuel Butler, The Way of All Flesh: Ch. 10

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What a really nice girl might have done with him I cannot tell, but fate had thrown none such in his way except his youngest sister Alethea, whom he might perhaps have liked if she had not been his sister.  The result of his experience was that women had never done him any good and he was not accustomed to associate them with any pleasure; if there was a part of Hamlet in connection with them it had been so completely cut out in the edition of the play in which he was required to act that he had come to disbelieve in its existence.  As for kissing, he had never kissed a woman in his life except his sister—and my own sisters when we were all small children together.  Over and above these kisses, he had until quite lately been required to imprint a solemn flabby kiss night and morning upon his father’s cheek, and this, to the best of my belief, was the extent of Theobald’s knowledge in the matter of kissing, at the time of which I am now writing.  The result of the foregoing was that he had come to dislike women, as mysterious beings whose ways were not as his ways, nor their thoughts as his thoughts.

With these antecedents Theobald naturally felt rather bashful on finding himself the admired of five strange young ladies.  I remember when I was a boy myself I was once asked to take tea at a girls’ school where one of my sisters was boarding.  I was then about twelve years old.  Everything went off well during tea-time, for the Lady Principal of the establishment was present.  But there came a time when she went away and I was left alone with the girls.  The moment the mistress’s back was turned the head girl, who was about my own age, came up, pointed her finger at me, made a face and said solemnly, “A na-a-sty bo-o-y!”  All the girls followed her in rotation making the same gesture and the same reproach upon my being a boy.  It gave me a great scare.  I believe I cried, and I know it was a long time before I could again face a girl without a strong desire to run away.

Theobald felt at first much as I had myself done at the girls’ school, but the Miss Allabys did not tell him he was a nasty bo-o-oy.  Their papa and mamma were so cordial and they themselves lifted him so deftly over conversational stiles that before dinner was over Theobald thought the family to be a really very charming one, and felt as though he were being appreciated in a way to which he had not hitherto been accustomed.

With dinner his shyness wore off.  He was by no means plain, his academic prestige was very fair.  There was nothing about him to lay hold of as unconventional or ridiculous; the impression he created upon the young ladies was quite as favourable as that which they had created upon himself; for they knew not much more about men than he about women.

As soon as he was gone, the harmony of the establishment was broken by a storm which arose upon the question which of them it should be who should become Mrs Pontifex.  “My dears,” said their father, when he saw that they did not seem likely to settle the matter among themselves, “Wait till to-morrow, and then play at cards for him.”  Having said which he retired to his study, where he took a nightly glass of whisky and a pipe of tobacco.