That a man enjoys the society of a charming woman, that a woman delights in the conversation of a brilliant man, is no sign that either of them is a flirt.

Few things are more vulgar than the readiness to infer a flirtation from every case of marked mutual interest between a man and a woman. The interchange of bright ideas, interspersed with the spontaneous sallies of gallantry and the instinctive repartee of innocent coquetry—an archery of wit and humor, grave and gay,—this is one of the salient features of civilized social life. It has nothing in common with the shallow travesty of sentiment that characterizes a pointless flirtation. The latter is bad form whenever and wherever existing. A sincere sentiment is not reduced to the straits of expressing itself in such uncertain language. It is fair to conclude that some insincerity, or some lack of a correct basis for sentiment, is betrayed in every pointless flirtation. It is hopelessly bad form. Young people who gratify vanity by idle "conquests," so called, make a sufficiently conspicuous show of ill-breeding; but a married flirt is worse than vulgar.

A woman may accept every tribute that a chivalrous man may offer to her talent or wit, so long as it is expressed in a hearty spirit of good comradeship, and with a clear and unmistakable deference to her self-respecting dignity; but a well-bred woman will resent as an insult to her womanhood any quasi-sentimental overtures from a man who has not the right to make them.

Etiquette requires that the association of men and women in refined circles shall be frank without freedom, friendly without familiarity. "Flirting" is a plebeian diversion. Every well-bred woman is a queen, for whose sake every well-bred man will hold a lance in rets.