And after all, how invariable is it that the man who has been the veriest flirt with women,--sighing, serenading, sonneteering, flinging himself at the feet of every pretty girl he meets with,--should become the most thorough dupe to his own feelings when his heart is really touched.

Your man of eight-and-thirty is always the greatest fool about women." "Confound your impertinence! How the devil can a fellow with a mustache not stronger that a Circassian's eyebrow read such a lecture to _me ?_" "Just for the very reason you've mentioned.

You _glide_ into an attachment at _my_ time of life; you _fall_ in love at _yours_." "Yes," said Power, musingly, "there is some truth in that.

This flirting is sad work.

It is just like sparring with a friend; you put on the gloves in perfect good humor, with the most friendly intentions of exchanging a few amicable blows; you find yourself insensibly warm with the enthusiasm of the conflict, and some unlucky hard knock decides the matter, and it ends in a downright fight.
"Few men, believe me, are regular seducers; and among those who behave 'vilely' (as they call it), three-fourths of the number have been more sinned against than sinning.