The depths of woman
Have you noticed that she never really looks worried? She may look puzzled, perplexed, even shocked . . . but never worried. I do not like to say this, but even the strongest women are probably weaker than the dullest of men. For all the intelligence of woman, it only apes the intelligence of man. Her manliness is surface. Her depths are woman.
I have observed that as woman becomes more educated and self-reliant, man sees her differently. Now she appears as a mirror of his own stature, or a lump of clay which he can mould into an effigy of himself. She apes his nature like trained monkey, and to own such a modern woman he finds flattering.
However, such fantasy is short-lived. Soon he realizes that not only does clay not have any choice about what form it takes, but that woman is of a clay that can be reshaped again and again. She mirrors him now, but just as the image changes in a mirror as you move it from place to place, so does her image change, depending on which man she is with. Her basic nature is without form: only on her surface does form appear.
What a disappointment it is to a man, to see his lover remolded by another man, into his shape!