"Oh, what a gallant thing to say to me. . . . Do you truly find me so—so agreeable?"
"Agreeable! You—I don't think I'd better say it——"
"Oh, I beg you!"
"May I?"
"'Pray, observe my unmatched eyes.'"
Her cheeks and lips were brilliant, her eyes sparkling; she leaned a trifle toward him, frail glass in hand.
"May not a pretty woman listen without offense if a gallant man praises her beauty?"
"You are exactly that—a beauty!" he said excitedly. "The most bewitching, exquisite, matchless——"
"Oh, I beg of you, be moderate," she laughed—and picked up a fan from somewhere and spread it, laughing at him over its painted edge.