She inclined ever so little to the fair-haired youth on the right, her eyes and lips smiling on him, but her hand was extended to his dark-haired rival on the left.
"I do not like that kind of picture," said Basil, "it lowers one's ideal of woman.

I do not think there is one-half so much coquetry in the world as people would make you believe." "Perhaps you never knew a coquette," she said; and the look she gave him from underneath those long lashes was quite irresistible.
"No," he replied; "indeed, a coquette could never charm me.

My ideal of woman is some one as lofty, grand, beautiful and gifted as you." "Yet there are coquettes," she said, gravely.
"I do not doubt it.

I only say there would be no charm for me in the fairest of them all." Just then two gentlemen entered at the other end of the room, and the slight noise made by their entrance caused Lady Amelie to look up.
Basil, who was watching her every movement, as he always did, attentively, saw her turn very pale and a sudden cloud of fear dimmed the radiance of her eyes.
"Lady Amelie, you are ill!" he cried; "or tired." "I am tired," she said, and they sat down on one of the seats, placed in the middle of the room.

It struck him that she was anxiously trying to conceal herself from observation, yet the idea seemed absurd.
In the meantime, the two gentlemen advanced slowly up the room.