"I fear," she stammered as she spoke, aware that her speech was full of awkwardness--"I fear that I have done wrong in--in----" "What?" "Engaging in quite a flirtation with a total stranger." "You cannot flirt--you are too sensible and artless; neither could I--with you, at least." "Have you never flirted?" asked Sybil, laughing to cover what she felt to be a second mistake. "Often." "Then why not with me?" she asked naïvely and archly. "First, tell me what is flirtation?" "I know what it is; but cannot define or describe it." "Shall I make the attempt?" "Do, please," said Sybil, now laughing outright. "It is neither coquetry nor exactly playing at courtship. It is one of those things most difficult indeed of description and of definition. It depends so much upon the time and place, the tone and tenor of those who attempt it, and on the mood of the moment, whether it be sad or gay. It is perilous work among the young and beautiful, as it is often so much mere nonsense, and yet is so much more dangerous to one's peace of mind than any nonsense could ever be. It is not so earnest or solemn as deliberate love-making, and yet it is not quite a mockery of it. It is a sharp weapon in the hands of the wary; but a dangerous pastime for those who have had no experience in _affaires du coeur_. It is a kind of lovemaking that commits one to no promise, and yet may raise the proudest and wildest anticipations in the breast, and elicit the most unwary confidence. Thus it is difficult to find where flirtation exactly begins, and still more to say where it may end--perhaps in real love and marriage. I fear I have read you quite a dissertation on the subject, a most hazardous one while looking into your bright eyes; and now tell me," added the officer, his tone and manner becoming more soft and earnest, "have you not done injustice to yourself and to me, for in all we have talked over so pleasantly both yesterday and to-day has anything of this vague kind been attempted?" "Most certainly not," replied Sybil, laughing again. "With you it would indeed be perilous for me," said the officer, taking her hand caressingly between his own; "for I could not feign, where I would rather feel." His eyes were dark and deep, their colour a kind of blue, difficult to define, but unfathomable in expression, though very soft just then; and now Sybil grew pale, for if the speaker was not flirting, he had suddenly slid into downright love-making; so she said, with an effort-- "We have been here more than an hour; am I not detaining you from your friends?" "Perhaps," said he, with an air of pique; "pardon me for looking at my watch. Two o'clock, by Jove! and I promised to meet the Trecarrel girls on the Camelford road half-an-hour ago. I shall catch it from little Rose for this! And now good morning--pardon me again if I have seemed intrusive, but I do not despair of our meeting again."