Men puzzled her, and Irene did not like to be puzzled.

As free from unwholesome inquisitiveness as a girl can possibly be, she often wished to know, once for all, whatever was to be learnt about the concealed life of men; to know it and to have done with it; to settle her mind on that point, as on any other that affected the life of a reasonable being.

Yet she shrank from all such enquiry, with a sense of womanly pride, doing her best to believe that there was no concealment in the case of any man with whom she could have friendly relations.

She scorned the female cynic; she disliked the carelessly liberal in moral judgment.

Profoundly mysterious to her was everything covered by the word "passion"-- a word she detested.
Her way of seeing life on the amusing side aided, of course, her maidenly severity against trouble of sense and sentiment.