"It's so difficult to say. Don't you see; people try to flirt with me, and that sort of thing."
"Oh yes, they would. Naturally."
"Sometimes," said Felicity, darting a look at him like a needle, "I shouldn't be surprised if people fell in love with me. So there!"
"You couldn't be less surprised than I should," said her husband, rather proudly. "Shows their good taste."
"Well, for instance—you know Bertie Wilton, don't you?"
"Oh yes, I think I've seen him. A boy who rattles about in a staring red motor-car. How any one on earth can stand those things when they can have horses——"
"That's not the point, Chetwode. I think Bertie Wilton is really in love with me. I really do."
Chetwode tried to look interested. "Is he though?"
"Well, I don't like it," she said pettishly.
"Then, don't stand it. But why? Isn't he a nice fellow?"