Kathleen shrugged her shoulders—and turned her attention to Teddy, who was whispering urgently in her ear:
"Come for a stroll. We're not wanted for a bit. Cut all this rot."
Immensely flattered by his selection of her, Kathleen assented immediately. Every eye observed their departure. Lulu giggled. They walked up the path in silence for a few moments; his straw hat thrust to the back of his head, his cane swishing at the ferns; while she debated whether cricket or football were the likeliest topic to interest him. Or perhaps he was a Boy Scout?
"D'you mind if I smoke?" and he added gallantly: "It'll keep the flies off you."
She was prepared for a woodbine—but the cigar was a bit of a shock. And then Teddy said:
"It was a toss-up whether I was going to talk sense to you, or just flirt. And then I decided you were too good to waste on a flirtation."
"Don't mistake me when I say 'good,'" Teddy went on. "I don't mean it in the priggish sense. I'm paying you a compliment in not flirting with you. I prefer flirting with married women as a rule; it's safer than with girls; married women can look after themselves. But you've got brain as well. And I expect you've got a devil of a temperament. That other creature—what's her name? Lulu!—one kisses her and forgets all about it...."
"She's just a Type," Teddy continued.
"I'm writing a book on various Types of women.... Oh, no, not a novel. 'Observations of Eve' I call it ... essays. All women can be tabulated, you know—the frilly, the passionate, the clinging, and so on. Types. I say, am I boring you?"
With perfect truth Kathleen was able to assure him that he was not. But at risk of forfeiting his esteem she was compelled to add: