"We don't need to recall that day," he said. "Why remember the chrysalis after the butterfly is in the air?"
"Oh, it's good for the butterfly;—keeps her grateful. However, I'm not a butterfly. I'm a bee."
"What? The busy kind?"
Sylvia nodded.
"You don't look it. At this moment you convey a purely ornamental idea."
"I know better, for my nose is sunburned. Besides, Mr. Dunham," the girl looked squarely into the amused eyes, "you mustn't flirt with me."
"Perish the thought. But for argument, why not?"
"Because I can't flirt back."
Dunham smiled. "Can't or shan't?"
"Well, shan't," she returned.