He. Well, on my confessing how far I had carried my flirtation with you— I can’t, for the life of me, tell how I happened to speak of it; I am usually more discreet.
She. I should hope so.
He. Oh, I am, I assure you; but the loves are so numerous, while I am but one, that they sometimes get the better of my discretion. What is one among so many?
She. Oh, in this case, absolutely nothing.
He. Thank you again.
She. But to continue—
He. Well, to continue, Annie actually seemed to think that you had some sort of claim upon me. Fancy!
She. She needn’t have troubled.
He. Oh, of course not. Why, I have offered myself to dozens of girls, with no more idea of marrying them than I have of becoming a howling dervish; and more than that, I have habitually been accepted. That is one thing about you that attracted me, do you know? There is a beautiful novelty about being rejected.
She. So that is the secret of my amusing you, is it? You ought to have explained this to Annie.