"What things?" growled Jacynth, flashing a dark side glance at his companion's round rubicund face.
"I—upon my soul, I think they may be all summed up in one word—flirtation! Of all the outrageous, audacious, insatiable little flirts that ever were born for the botheration of mankind, I suppose Fenella Ffrench is about the completest specimen."
"Poor mankind!" sneered Jacynth, drawing down the corners of his mouth.
"My dear fellow, she began when she was in short frocks. I've no doubt the man where she bought her hoops and dolls was in love with her. And when she began to grow up it was a general massacre."
"Not of the innocents, however," muttered Jacynth.
"Ffrench's place was in Hampshire, not quite out of reach by a drive from Portsmouth, although it was a long pull by road. And before she was sixteen, Fenella had bowled over the whole garrison. I believe the local chemist expected a wholesale order for prussic acid the day her engagement to Frank Onslow was announced," said his fat little lordship, chuckling at his own wit.
"Where did she meet him?"
"At a garrison ball in Portsmouth. It was supposed to be a case of love at first sight.
