"I suppose so."
"Hum! And do you?"
"La, sir! I am a maid, also."
"And enjoy it?"
"Yes, sir.... Do not you?"
"What?"
"Do not you enjoy admiration? Is admiration displeasing to young men?"
"Well—no," I admitted. "Only it is well to be armed with experience—hum-hum!—and discretion when one encounters the flattery of admiration."
"Yes, sir.... Are you so armed, Mr. Drogue?"
At a loss to answer, her question being unexpected—as were many of her questions—and answers also—I finally admitted that flattery was a subtle foe and that perhaps experience had not wholly armed me against that persuasive enemy.