Man has always held woman to be most sacred in life; more precious to him and appealing more to him than all the rest of life. If she be his mother, he sees her as his source and creator, his only sustainer and protection; in heartbreak and disappointment and in the very depths of despair comes the thought of the mother, who was his first friend before anyone was attracted to him, and his first guardian and teacher. If she be his sister he thinks more of her than of himself, for her position in life is more delicate than his; she is the honor of his family, and he considers that he shares the responsibility of his parents for her. None of this goodness is artificial; it is of the very essence of humanity, springing from the nature of things. To a father the responsibility of a daughter seems greater than that of a son; her dishonor or unhappiness strikes at him most keenly. And in that closest relationship of life, a word against a man's wife destroys his happiness and peace; he would accept any degradation to shield her; and this equally whether he be attached to a woman worthy of his ideal or to a prostitute, to one who has lost all sense of self-respect. In each relationship her honor is his own honor.