"Don't be sarcastic, my dear," she said; "though, I admit, we were very forward."
"Nonsense!" I replied. "This is a Masque. Only, are you quite sure we were the first men you bantered?"
"You forget, sir; Folly has no past," she said.
"A true word, mademoiselle," I agreed. "Shall it be so with us when we part?"
She looked up at me a moment.
"Monsieur must be married," she laughed.
"Every man is married—or hopes to be," said I.
She tapped me again with her fan.
"You forget, again," she said. "Folly never—moralizes."
"True," said I, "she hasn't any morals."