A LESSON IN FLIRTATION.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 4, Issue 47, 18 June 1915, Page 6

A LESSON IN FLIRTATION.

(From "Spare Moments.") Lady ()rwell was " at home " —not to all the world, but to the select few who happened to interest her in that particular year of grace. There were no old friends, and she did not encourage them. There were usually about four women in the room, and they were carefully chosen for their ugliness and patient dispositions. Every one said she encouraged them to irritate the men, and increase their longing to escape to her side. It was certainly an understood thing at Lady Orwell's that only one man was to sit by her at a time. She gave each one his turn, if he deserved it, and expected him to " serve Ills seven years " cheerfully in another corner of thu room. To-day, however, the young men nibbed their eyes and stared. What was Lady Orwell thinking of? There was a young and beautiful woman languidly sipping tea on Lady Orwell's own | • riicular sofa —-it just held two, and was not much exposed to the light; she .' lust have got in by accident, or force, or guile. Their hostess would never have been so foolish as to a.sk a possible lival. They were mistaken, however. She had been the subject of a special invitation. The fact was that Mrs. Hansford Deane was there to learn. She had not long been married, and had lived in the country all her life. Lady Orwell had taken pity oil her ignorance, and had asked her round to show her how filings ought to be done.

" My dear." she had said some davs previously, "you really must have somo admirers." "I have my husband,'' Mrs, Deano had replied, with provoking innocen??.

"Your husband? Yes, of course. So have [. But if your husband is the only man who is going to admire you, '.on will soon lose your attractiveness in his eyes. Men like their wives to be nn

after. It gives them the pride of ps session."

"Is it not rather dangerous Lt.lv Orwell ?"

"How seriously you take cvervthi.ig, child. There is 110 harm." "Not in playing with fire?" "Fire? Fiddlesticks! Come round on Tuesday. I have a few people ; n. You will like them, I expect. Thev are rather different from the ordinary people." Mrs. Deane had laughed, but she came round. Lady Orwell was very kind, gave h. • the second best man and the very best seat, and told all the others how cha p in ing she was. "Fresh from the country, you l.ow, Algv," she murmured, "where all iho beautiful things are —the buttercups aiid daisies. Isn't she lovely?"

Algy was fool enough to say " Ye-,,'' so lie was packed off before liis time was up, and he made things so unpleasr.it all round the other side of the ro.i.n that people dropped off one by on", and soon Lady Orwell and Mrs. Deane \urs? left alone.

"Well, my dear," said Lady f'fv.ell when Algy, who had stayed to see all the others driven out, had gone, '"hon have you been getting on?" "I don't think my husband will hr.vo any cause to he jealous," Mrs. FKmo replied, leaning back in a more comfortable position than she had hitherto allowed herself. "Dear me, how unfortunate you art-! You don't know how to treat them, you silly child. You should have watched me; a lot can l>c done in that way. I suppose you talked about books and + he theatres and motors and all those sort of things," and Lady Orwell smiled contemptuously. "What else should I talk about —to strangers?" replied the pupil, rather wearily, for, to say the truth, 1/<idy Orwell's second best young man had not been very much interested in anything. Lady Orwell laughed. "You absurd creature ! Do you think that sort of conversation interests them 5 They are only interested in you—and themselves. You must be more personal. Discuss the characters of men and women. A lot can be done with that. You soon drift round to your own natures and dispositions, and on that topic you can become intimate in fifteen minutes. Then you should hint at domestic sorrows. There is nothing a young man likes so much in a married woman as domestic sorrows." "But I haven't any," Mrs. Deane said, pulling a rose to pieces, and drop ping the leaves into a teacup. "Of course not; but it is so easy to suggest some. ] really believe Algy Dawson thinks that Lord Orwell beats me." "Did you tell him so?" cried Mrs. Deane, in disgust. "Xo, you goose; but I always look very sad, and then brighten up wiv.-n he comes and sits by me. It makes hie.' think he is the one bright spot in mj r.ark and desolate life. Of emirs > !e likes to think that." And Lady On ?1I laughed till she spilt some i' a over her new frock. " How insincere you people ol London are," said Mrs. Deane, with a demure look on her lace. Then a mischievous light flashed into her eyes, and she cried. "What fun!" "Yes, dear. You see what you have missed in the country; but. as I say, you can learn a lot from me. ' " Do teach me, Lady Orwell," the girl said, eagerly. "1 think 1 think I should be a good pupil." "A great deal rests with yourself, of course," replied Lady Orwell. Mrs. Deane turned her head a little, just a little, towards the mirror, and smiled. "Just a few hints, though," she pleaded. "They would be very acceptable. You have had so much experience." '■ I can only repeat what I have said. Bo personal. Personalities are the only proper topic of conversation between a man and a woman. You cannot be too personal. It is better oven to be rude titan to talk about, bicycles." "Please go on," cried Mrs. Deane, clasping her knees with her hands and leaning forward. -Well, vou can talk about other men

--if von liko. Not interim of abuse that is inartistic —lint as it they didn t matter. It institutes pleasant mental compari.-ons in the man's mind. It is only verbal comparisons that are odi-

Mrs. Deane jumped uj). ''l must go, Lady (irwell. I could listen to yon all day. Oil. yon are clever. Hut isn't it all j ust —just a little wrong?" Lady Orwell rose, ton. and kissed her. "Silly child, do you think any of us are deceived?"

" Might. not those who did not know "Young, inexperienced people: might they n«t be deceived— and—and " "They soon learn, dear."

T.ady Orwell sighed, and looked away. Mrs. Deane wondered hew she had learned, and if the lesson had been a pleasant one. "Good-hvo, Lady Orwell, and thank you so much. I have half a mind to trv —some day." And she laughed round the corner of the door and was gone. A month afterward, Mrs. Hansford Deane found Ladv Orwell alono in her drawing-room—her "schoolroom," Mrs. Deane always called it. After n few greetings Lady Orwell camo to the point.

"TTas it h<-»tt ft success, dewf" vlio cried.

Mrs. Deano nodded, and gav« a smile suspiciously like one of triumph. "Sit down, dear, and tell me all about it. Lady Orwell smiled encouragingly, and began to pour out some tea. " VTefl, first of all, who is he?" Mrs. Deane blushed. _ "Oh, 1 don't think I ought to toll you that. He —is married, and it might—" " Well, well, it doesn't matter," she replied lather sharply. "All men are the same. You are young yet, and will soon get over that feeling. I don't understand it myself, and—you and I are also married —for that matter." Mrs. Deane looked relieved. "1 was afraid you would be vexed,'' she said, "would think I had perhaps gone too far. I nm so glad you don't sec any harm in it.' 1 " Is lie sufficiently fascinating?" Lady Orwell asked. "That is the thing. That, in fact, is the only excuse." " He is one of the most charming men I have ever met," replied Mrs. Donne, with fervour. Then she looked on the floor, and spoke more slowly. "So strong, so self-reliant, and, poor mail, so unhappy." "In his wife, I suppose. Of course I Don't you remember what I told you?" There was a slight sneer on Lady Orwell's face.

"Yes, L remember," she replied. "I have profited by it. Alter what you told me, no man could decoivo me. But he —1 am sure he is speaking the truth. There!" and she drew herself up (Defiantly.

"Of course, dear, of course," Lady Orwell said, soothingly, and laughed behind her handkerchief.

"His wife neglects him—flirts with other men,'' Mrs. Deane went on, indignantly. " 1 know she does." "Of course, dear. They all do. Didn't 1 tell you so?" " But it is different in his case."

''Why? I don't suppose she moans anything any more than you or I do." "He thinks she does," Mrs. Deane hiurted out, "so it's just as bad—tor Itim."

Lady Orwell laughed softly. "For him? Whoso fault is that? But 1 won't destroy your illusions. You are young, and 1 suppose you want some excuse/'

"Not for my conduct. I am mere—merely doing what you have taught e. It is all in fun."

" Hut for him. You want an excuse lor his conduct. Is he «> much in earnest?" Lady Orwell began to te sorry for the man, and a bit ashamed of her own share in the matter. She recovered, however. "You sweet, innocent thing," she continued, "you will soon learn that nothing is ever done in earnest."

Mrs. Deane rose and smiled. "Perhaps," she said, sweetly, "perhaps 1 may some day attain to your position, Lady Orwell. As yet lam too young. lam sorry for the harm I have done."

"You ridiculous child, you have done no harm. Must you be going? (loodbye, dear. He will get over it. I am rather proud of my pupil's success. Is he really so much in earnest? Poor fellow!— Pooh! it will do him good." Sirs. Deane moved towards the door. "I think," she said, quietly, "that Lord Orwell is one of the lxist-liearted, most ——"

Lady Orwell rose and knocked over a jardiniere.

"Mrs. Ransford Deane!" blio said, with some dignity. "0 Lady Orwell, I am so sorry." (There was a sly twinkle in her eye all the same.) "1 thought you said there was no harm. I didn't think you would mind. Your pupils must practise, you know. Tt was only in fun —ah, I see it all now."

"What do you see?" Lady Orwell said, sharply, kicking viciously at the remnants of the wrecked jardiniere with one shapely foot. "That one can look at it from quite another point of view." As a matter of fact, I/ird Orwell said that he had never even met Mrs. Ransford Deane, and I am not quite sure that the poor fellow was not Rpeaking the truth. He ought, however, to be very thankful to her. Lady Orwell does not give lessons in flirtation now. —B. 0. K.