As her father presented me--"

Magdalena faced about. "And you did not tell her? You did not speak of
me?"

"I am going to be perfectly frank, knowing how sensible you are. I had a
desperate flirtation with your friend, as desperate and meaningless as
those things always are; for it is merely an invention to pass the idler
hours of society. There was nothing else to do, so we flirted. It added
to the zest to keep her in ignorance of my identity. It was a silly
pastime, but better than nothing. I should far rather have been in bed.
If I could have talked to you, it would have been quite another matter."

Magdalena hurried on ahead. He had the tact not to accelerate his own
steps. After a time she fell back. She said,--

"What is this 'flirtation,' anyhow? I have heard nothing but
'flirtation' all winter, and I heard a good deal of it last summer. But
I have not the slightest idea what it means. What do you do?"

"Do? Oh--I--it is impossible to define flirtation. You must have the
instinct to understand. Then you wouldn't ask. Thank Heaven you never
will understand. Flirtation is to love-making what soda-water is to
champagne. I can think of no better definition than that."

"Did you kiss Helena?"

"Good God, no! That's not flirtation. She is not the sort that would let
me if I wished."

"Did you hold her hand?"

"I have held no woman's hand but yours for an incalculable time."

"Did you tell her that you loved her?"

"Certainly not!"

"I must say I can't see how a flirtation differs from an ordinary
conversation."

"It only does in that subtle something which cannot be explained."

Magdalena had an inspiration. "Perhaps you talk with your eyes some."

"Well, you are not altogether wrong. Did you ever see a fencing match?
Imagine two invisible personalities dodging and doubling, springing and
darting. That will give you some idea. And all without a flutter of
passion or real interest. It is good exercise for the lighter wits, but
stupid at best." He did not add that the very essence of flirtation is
its promise of more to come.

It was some time before Magdalena spoke again. Then she asked,--

"What did Helena say when you told her your name?"

"I believe she said, 'Great Heaven!'"

"I think this must be the cemetery."

They ascended the rough hill, and pushed their way through weeds and
thistles and wild oats to the dilapidated stones under the oaks.
Magdalena had imagined her conflicting emotio