"A man," she thought suddenly, "would consider this a business outing, But, then, a man would not have to cook the meals for the day overnight, nor consign his child to a friend, nor leave half-done the ironing, nor forget the grocery order as I now discover I have forgotten it. The artfulness of men," she thought. "They implant in us, foster in us, instincts which it is to their advantage for us to have, and which, in the end, we feel shame at not possessing."
Hope you don't mind me sharing.
It's from the novel I'm currently reading, A View from the Harbour, by Elizabeth Taylor (yeah not that one!) published in 1947. The character is a writer, on her way to London, to meet with her publisher.