University of Virginia Library

Then he: What came of Muriel Lumisden?
You used to haunt the widow's house, I think,
With the fair daughters. What a flirt she was!
And how she kept a score of silly lads
Dangling about her, every one quite sure
He was the favoured, and the rest were gulls!
Flirting came natural to her; you could see it
In every movement, every dainty curl
And fold of her black hair, in every tone,
And glance and turn of the eyebrows, and in all
The gesture of her lithe and supple beauty.
To flirt was in the marrow of her bones;
Even as a child she'd make eyes to her doll;
And just to keep her hand in, I have known her
Beam on the butcher's boy a winning glance
That sent him half-way heavenward to his calves.

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And yet there have been times when she has seemed
A noble creature to me, all compact
Of womanly grace, with heart that answered true
To every noblest impulse, and inspired
High-souled enthusiasm, till I have felt
I could have been content to do some deed
That she would smile upon, and then to die,
Keeping that smile for ever. How she fooled us!
Yet oh how beautiful she was! those eyes
Melting with tenderness, or flashing scorn
At any baseness, and those lips for all
Emotions eloquent! But such a flirt!