Since the publication of 'Her Royal Highness Woman' and 'Between Ourselves,' some people, I am afraid, have somehow been under the impression that I keep open a sort of Dr. Cupid's office, in which I hold consultations on questions referring to love and matrimony; and I have received many letters—far too many to answer—in which fair correspondents in trouble have written for advice.

Only quite recently I received a letter from a lady, who writes: 'I am madly in love with a man whom I cannot marry, but whom I have to see on business almost every day; what should I do to be cured? Should I marry another man who is now seeking my hand, who can offer me a very good position, but whom I do not love?'

Now, here is a problem if you like: Can matrimony be administered as an antidote? If so, in what doses?

To tell you the truth, I rather believe in homoeopathy—that is to say, in the cure of the like by the like. You want to be cured of your love for a man—why, love another; it is as simple as possible. Yes, but the lady tells me she cannot love that other, yet she seems inclined to 'swallow' him as an antidote. At any rate, she suggests that she might do so, and I suppose she wants me to tell her whether she is likely to be successful, if the cure will be effective and lasting.

Of course, there is more chance of happiness in a marriage which is contracted between a man who loves a woman and a woman who does not love him than in one contracted between a woman who loves a man and a man who does not love her. Under the circumstances, a man, after entering matrimonial life, is much more likely to win his wife's love than a woman her husband's. I believe this to be so true as to be almost taken for granted.

But, my dear lady correspondent, are you going to tell that man honestly on what terms you are going to marry him? Are you going to trust to his intelligence, his tact, his love, his devotion, to win your affections? And are you going to do your utmost to help him? Surely you are not going to deceive him, let him think you love him, and prepare for him and for yourself a life of misery and wretchedness, and thus build your married life on contempt and deceit, which will lead you to hate your husband.

But enough of awful suppositions, for, between you and me, I can declare that your case is much more hopeful than you think. The disease from which you suffer—or, rather, from which you imagine that you suffer—is quite curable, and is cured every day without having to resort to such extreme measures as you suggest, for, dear lady, do you not say to me that you love that man 'madly'?

Fireworks, shells, volcanic eruptions, and mad love have this in common: they may do harm, cause suffering, but they last a short time only. And, pray, why do you see the man on business every day? Is he your confessor, your doctor, your music-teacher, your dancing-master? Has a royal escapade of recent date, like a 'penny dreadful,' created a disturbance in your otherwise well-balanced mind?

And why can't you marry him? Oh, I see, he is married already.

Now, are you aware that we never fall in love madly except with people whom we cannot marry? You say you did not know that. I tell you you have no idea how simple your case is, and how common.

By the way, would not, perchance, that man be the 'juvenile lead' who acts in the romantic drama which is being played every day in your city? Oh, you matinee girl! Are you aware that matinee girls invariably love madly? Yes, as madly and as idiotically as do in the play the heroes whom they worship.

Now, do not take tragically, or even seriously, such little clouds as 'mad love.' Do not use big words for very little things. Mad love is the easiest love to cure. Change your doctor or your dancing-master, or—if I have otherwise guessed right—patronize another theatre. Go and see 'Hamlet'—that will cure you of 'Romeo.'

Then look more carefully at that very sensible man who offers you marriage and a good position, and if you realize that you can make him happy, and you are sure you are not madly in love with him, marry him. And if you study him very closely and discover in him qualities and attainments that may lead you to fall in love with him madly, don't tell him: he might believe you.

Men are so silly!