"What about myself," she repeated with a sigh, turning round and leaning lightly against the balustrade. "I'm sure I don't know. I've never thought about the subject. Very likely it's not worth thinking about."
"Believe me," began the young man earnestly, "you are----"
"Everything that's charming," interrupted Victoria, crossing her hands. "Do spare me any compliments, Mr. Macjean, I'm so tired of them. I wonder if you men think we women believe all the lies you tell us."
"But they're not lies."
"Not, perhaps, for the moment, but afterwards."
"Don't trouble about afterwards, the present is good enough for us."
He was getting on dangerous ground, for his voice was soft, and his young eyes flashed brightly on her face, so as Victoria had only known him twenty-four hours, even with her reckless daring of coquetry this was going too far, and with the utmost dexterity she changed the subject.
"By the way," she said lightly, "do you know I'm a relation of yours?"
"Impossible."
"Well, perhaps it is. Still you can judge for yourself. My mother's maiden name was Macjean."