It mostly does with women.

I never really cared for any woman in the world except Gracey Storefield, but she was far away, and I didn't see much likelihood of my being able to live in that part of the world, much less to settle down and marry there.

So, though we'd broken a six-pence together and I had my half, I looked upon her as ever so much beyond me and out of my reach, and didn't see any harm in amusing myself with any woman that I might happen to fall across.
So, partly from idleness, partly from liking, and partly seeing that the girl had made up her mind to throw in her lot with me for good and all, I just took it as it came; but it meant a deal more than that, if I could have foreseen the end.
I hadn't seen a great many women, and had made up my mind that, except a few bad ones, they was mostly of one sort--good to lead, not hard to drive, and, above all, easy to see through and understand.
I often wonder what there was about this Kate Morrison to make her so different from other women; but she was born unlike them, I expect.
Anyway, I never met another woman like her.

She wasn't out-and-out handsome, but there was something very taking about her.

Her figure was pretty near as good as a woman's could be; her step was light and active; her feet and hands were small, and she took a pride in showing them.