For men as a rule, love is but and episode which takes its place among the other affairs of the day, and the emphasis laid on it in novels gives it and importance which is untrue to life. There are few men to whom it is the most important thing it the world, and they are not very interesting ones; even women, with whom the subject is of paramount interest, have a contempt for them. They are flattered and excited by them, but have an uneasy feeling that they are poor creatures. But even during the brief intervals in which they are in love, men do other things which distract their minds; the trades by which they earn a living engage their attention; they are absorbed in sport; they can interest themselves in art. For the most part, they keep their various activities in various compartments, and they can pursue one to the temporary exclusion of the other. They have a faculty of concentration on that which occupies them at the moment, and it irk them if one encroaches on the other. As lovers, the difference between men and women is that women can love all day long, but men only at times.