"Well, give it quick," said Peter impatiently.
"No—you must let me take my time. Have you been to a great many dances lately, Peter?"
"You bet!" The young Adonis shrugged his shoulders. "I seem to have been through a London season, which I haven't done, of course, since 1914. Never went to so many dances in my life!"
"Somebody tells me, Peter, that—you're a dreadful flirt!" said Helena, still with those grave, considering eyes.
Peter laughed—but rather angrily.
"All very well for you to talk, Miss Helena! Please—how many men were you making fools of—including your humble servant—before you went down to Beechmark? You have no conscience, Helena! You are the 'Belle Dame sans merci.'"
"All that is most unjust—and ridiculous!" said Helena mildly.
Peter went off into a peal of laughter. Helena persisted.
"What do you call flirting, Peter?"
"Turning a man's head—making him believe that you're gone on him—when, in fact, you don't care a rap!"