Sylvia was a born coquette, and most dangerous in that her power of attraction was natural, and as a rule she appealed to the better and more chivalrous feelings of her victims.

Fragile, and delicately pretty, she looked as if she needed some one to shelter and defend her from all troubles.

Bland decided that, although she rarely said anything brilliant, and he had seen more beautiful women, he had not met one who, taken all round, could compare with Sylvia.
"What are you thinking of ?" she asked at length, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
"Oh," he answered, slightly confused, "my mind was wandering.

I believe I was trying to explain a thing that's wrapped in impenetrable mystery." "One wouldn't have imagined you were given to that kind of amusement, and it's obviously a waste of time.

Wouldn't it be wiser to accept the object that puzzles you for what it seems, if it's nice ?" "It is," he declared, wondering whether this was a random shot on her part or one of the flashes of penetration with which she sometimes surprised him.
"Your advice is good." "I believe so," responded Sylvia.