"I warned you I should flirt."
"And I warned you it would only be with me. To be plain with you, I expect you not to kiss any but myself."
"Tom, Dick, and Harry!" she flashed, betraying a wound.
"Yes or, for instance, the Comte de Lavisse."
There was an edge to the words; she glanced swiftly at him, understanding all at once that he was actuated as much by jealousy as by prudery. The anger left her face; she exclaimed: "Charles! Dear fool! You're quite rightt: it wasn't Etienne!"
He said ruefully: "Wasn't it? Yes, I did think so."
"And were longing to call him out!"
"Nothing so romantic. Merely to plant him a facer."
She was amused. "What the devil's that?"
"Boxing cant. Forget it! If you were to add that to your vocabulary it would be beyond everything!"