"Then," said I, "there is rare trouble ahead for the other party."
"But if that one also were to become—you know," she went on.
"There's an end to the flirtation; it's a different kind of game then."
"Are you quite sure there can be flirtation without sentiment?" she persisted.
"It's the only artistic sort; and the only safe sort, too," I answered sagely.
"And is it a pleasant game to play for a while in that fashion?" she asked.
"Doubtless," I answered evasively; "only it is rarely done."
She went back to the roses again. "I think, cousin, I shall flirt with you," she said suddenly.
I took a fresh hold on the railing. I was surprised.
But I was more troubled; for I was quite sure she meant it.