“Come, come,” said he, with a knowing look, “I am not so easily imposed upon, as I told you awhile back. I know England. Your ways and notions are all known to me. It is not in the place you occupy here young lads are found who speak three or four languages, and have hands that show as few signs of labor as yours. Mind,” said he, quickly, “I don't want to know your secret.”
“If I had a secret, it is scarcely likely I 'd tell it to a stranger,” said I, haughtily.
“Just so; you 'd know your man before you trusted him. Well, I 'm more generous, and I 'm going to trust you, whom I never saw till half an hour ago.”
“Trust me!”
“Trust you,” repeated he, slowly. “And first of all, what age would you give that young lady whose birthday we are celebrating?”
“Seventeen—eighteen—perhaps nineteen.”
“I thought you'd say so; she looks nineteen. Well, I can tell you her age to an hour. She is fifteen to-day.”
“Fifteen!”
“Not a day older, and yet she is the most finished coquette in Europe. Having given Fiume to understand that there is not a man here whose pretensions she would listen to, her whole aim and object is to surround herself with admirers,—I might say worshippers. Young fellows are fools enough to believe they have a chance of winning her favor, while each sees how contemptuously she treats the other. They do not perceive it is the number of adorers she cares for.”
“But what is all this to me?”