Bassishaw didn’t seem to see it at all. He fumbled with his fork.
“I expect you’ve had your fancies, of course,” he replied. “But I don’t mean just fancies--that’s only flirting.”
The man who cannot flirt never sees that the power to do so is a gift of the gods. Arthur held by negative constancy.
“Flirtation,” I replied, “is not the simple affair you think, Arthur. It is not necessarily a matter of twilights and conservatories, and does not even always demand privacy. For a flirtation with zest there is nothing like having an audience. Is that not so, Millicent?”
“Spare me the revelation of my ignorance,” Millicent returned, moving her chair an inch or two from the now importunate fire, and looking over her shoulder. “It is possible.”
“The only requisites are a woman, a secret, and as many spectators as have not the use of their eyes,” I continued; “those granted, you may riot in innuendo, and your reputation go scatheless. It is the very button on the cap.”
Bassishaw could think of nothing more original to say than that it was playing with edged tools. Carrie was directing the removal of plates; I devoted my attention to Millicent.
“I had one very serious fancy, though, Millicent,” I remarked. “Shall I tell you?”
“I trust it is not unfit for the children,” she replied, looking this time beneath the flowers at Bassishaw. “The knowledge of good and evil from your point of view might not be of advantage to them.”
“Oh, Rollo, what was that?” she said. “You never told me.”
“No?” I inquired incredulously. “And you my sister, too! Ah, well, it was this. Summer mornings, at seven, I used to go across the fields with a bathing-towel; on my return I was generally met by--I never mentioned her name.”
“It would be indiscreet,” said Millicent.
“Discretion,” I answered, “is the better part of flirtation. They were lovely mornings, and there was a stile--a rather high stile--a distinct opportunity.”
I looked carefully away from Millicent, and turned to Bassishaw.
“Yes?” he said appreciatively. “And what happened?”
“I fancy,” I continued, “that she always met me on my side of the stile, so that we always had to get over it.”
Bassishaw seemed to approve the strategy.
“She combined,” I replied, “the harmlessness of the dove with the wisdom of the serpent, for she used to feel tired when we got there, and rest. There was just room for two.”