everything base and dishonorable in womankind—for a flirt, from his point of view, was a girl with a little money, who led younger sons and rash young officers and helpless curates to believe that she could be persuaded to marry one of them, and ended by hooking a mature baronet, or an elder son, with a good landed property.
Flirtation on the American plan, merely to pass away the time, and with no ulterior object whatever, was altogether incomprehensible to him. And Letty's perfect self-possession! No tell-tale blush, but a look of the most infantile innocence she wore, when she was caught in the very act of taking a sentimental walk with a man! The genuine American girl—not the imitation Anglo-American formed by transatlantic travel—was a very queer lot, thought Sir Archy, gravely.
"Where have you been?" asked Letty, with an air of authority, which she alternated with the most charming submissiveness.
"At Shrewsbury," answered Sir Archy.
"Ah, I know—we all know. There 's a magnet at Shrewsbury."
Now, to be chaffed about a girl, and par-
