almost certain also that she had not even begun to be really in love herself, though he felt that she liked him.  On the other hand—­for in the flash of a second he argued the case—­he did not feel that she was the hypothetical defenceless maiden, helpless to resist the wiles of an equally hypothetical wicked young man.  She had been brought up by a worldly mother since she had left the convent where she had associated with other girls, most of whom also had worldly mothers; and some of the wildest blood in Europe ran in her veins.

On the whole, he thought it would be justifiable to tell her exactly what he felt, and she might do as she pleased about answering him.

“I think I shall fall in love with you before long,” he said, with almost unnecessary calmness.

Sabina had not expected that the first declaration she received in her life would take this mild form, but it affected her much more strongly than she could understand.  Her hand tightened suddenly on the book she held, and she noticed a little fluttering at her heart and in her throat, and at the same time she was conscious of a tremendous determination not to show that she felt anything at all, but to act as if she had heard just such things before, and more also.

“Indeed!” she said, with admirable indifference.

Malipieri looked at her in surprise.  An experienced flirt of thirty could not have uttered the single word more effectively.

“I wonder whether you will ever like me better than you do now,” he said, by way of answer.

She was wondering, too, but it was not likely that she would admit it.

“I am very fickle,” she replied, with a perfectly self-possessed little laugh.

“So am I,” Malipieri answered, following her lead.  “My most desperate love affairs have never lasted more than a month or two.”

“You have had a great many, I daresay,” Sabina observed, with no show of interest.  She was amazed and delighted to find how easy it was to act her new part.

“And you,” he asked, laughing, “how often have you been in love already?”

“Let me see!”

She turned her eyes to his, without turning her head, and letting the book lie in her lap she pretended to count on her fingers.  He watched her gravely, and nodded as she touched each finger, as if he were counting with her.  Suddenly she dropped both hands and laughed gaily.

“How childish you are!” she exclaimed.

“How deliciously frank you are!” he retorted, laughing with her.

It was mere banter, and not witty at that, but they were growing intimate in it, much faster than either of them realized, for it was the first time they had been able to talk together quite without constraint, and it was the very first time Sabina had ever had a chance of talking as she pleased to a man whom she really thought young.