“I think you’re a fast worker,” she said, right in the middle of a silence.
He smiled. “I was about to say the same thing of you.”
“Oh, but it wouldn’t be true—of a girl.”
“No?”
“No.”
The finality of her voice would have been convincing, had it not been for the expression of her mouth. But it was easy, from this point, to branch off into a more serious discussion about the relative functions of girls and boys. In order to ascertain her reaction, he ventured the theory that a woman was always justified in her flirtations; that the beauty of the moment, in love, was all that really counted; and that an engagement was really not binding if either party should lose interest. She disagreed with this, and said:
“I think an engagement is sacred. Flirting—well, that’s the food of life, you know. But it’s one of my principles never—”
She paused, fearing that she was becoming a trifle too frank with this comparative stranger.
“Well, go on. Never—”
“No, I don’t know you well enough to tell you.”