"I need not ask anybody; I can see for myself. What do you do all day long but play billiards?" "I beg your pardon, Miss Beatoun. You estimate my capabilities at a very improper level. I do no end of things besides billiards. I shoot, smoke, eat, and--talk to you." "What a way to spend one's life!" severely. "I wonder where you think you will go when you die?" "I hope wherever you go. I say," piteously, "don't scold a fellow on such a splendid day--don't; it's uncommon afflicting of you; and don't put on your gloves for a little longer." "Why?" "Because I like looking at your hands, though at the same time they always irritate me. They are the very prettiest I ever saw; and--forgive me for saying it--but I always want to kiss them. Now, don't begin again, please; remember you have lectured me for a good hour.' "Then I have wasted a good hour and done nothing I give you up; you are past cure." "I remember coming here once before," breaks in Lottie Hastings's voice, "and wishing for something, and I really got it before the year was out." "Must one wait a whole year?" asks Sir Mark. "Then I shall have to write mine down. Give you my word that if my own name was suppressed for a year I don't believe I would recollect what it was at the end of it." "Are we bound by law to name our wishes?" asks Chips, earnestly. "Because, if so, I shall have to sink into the ground with shame. I'm horrid bashful--that is my most glaring fault, you know, Miss Beatoun--and I would not disclose my secret desire for anything you could offer." "For anything I could offer," repeats Miss Beatoun. "Are you sure? Shall I tempt you? Would you not, for instance, take---" The eyes say the rest. "Don't," exclaims Thornton, putting his hands over his ears. "I won't listen to you. I refuse to understand. Miss Hastings, will you permit me to sit by you? Miss Beatoun is behaving with more than her usual cruelty." "Come," says Miss Hastings, smiling and putting aside her dress to give him room to seat himself on the grass near her. As Chips leaves Bebe, Lord Chandos quietly slips into his place, to Miss Beatoun's evident surprise. "Is it fair to encourage that poor boy so very openly?" begins Chandos, calmly. "What?" says Miss Beatoun. "Is it kind to flirt so much with young Thornton?" repeats Lord Chandos, still perfectly calm. "You must make a mistake," says Bebe, provokingly "You know I never flirt. In the first place, I don't consider it good form." "Neither do I consider it 'good form' for a young lady to talk slang," very gravely and quietly. "I wouldn't do it if I were you." "How do you know what you would do if you were I?" "At all events, you must acknowledge that it is not becoming."