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 particularly a girl like Miss Maywood—to whom he had undeniably paid certa
