"I did not say you were. I hope you are not—I hope to God you are not!" he answers, with more vehemence than the occasion seems to demand.
"And yet," she says, feeling oppressed by the solemnity of his manner and trying to speak lightly, "I have heard it said that no woman can be thoroughly attractive who is not something of a flirt."
"I had rather that she should be thoroughly unattractive then," he answers, shortly and grimly.
"Men always wish to have a monopoly of all pleasant sins," she retorts, a little cynically.
"If you think that the reason why I wish you not to flirt is that I want a monopoly of that occupation, you are mistaken," he says, gravely; "it is an art that I have not either the will or the power to practise."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. Confess that, after that admission, your opinion of me is considerably lowered."
No answer but a smile.