She is wearing a brilliant blouse and a gaily trimmed hat. There is an air of fashion about her that might disappear under the analysis of a woman of the world, but which is quite sufficient to make Kipps very proud to be distinguished as her particular "feller," and to be allowed at temperate intervals to use her Christian name.
The conversation is light and gay in the modern style, and Flo keeps on smiling, good temper being her special charm.
"Ye see, you don' mean what I mean," he is saying.
"Well, what do you mean?"
"Not what you mean!"
"Well, tell me."
"Ah! That's another story."
Pause. They look meaningly at one another.
"You are a one for being roundabout," says the lady.
"Well, you're not so plain, you know."
"Not plain?"
"No."
"You don't mean to say I'm roundabout?"
"No. I mean to say … though"
Pause.
"Well?"
"You're not a bit plain—you're" (his voice jumps up to a squeak) "pretty. See?"
"Oh, get out!" her voice lifts also—with pleasure.
She strikes at him with her glove, then glances suddenly at a ring upon her finger. Her smile disap-
