Picotee did not reply.

'Never mind: keep your secret. However, listen to this: not a kiss--not
so much as the shadow, hint, or merest seedling of a kiss!'

'There is no fear of it,' murmured Picotee; 'though not because of me!'

'You see, my dear Picotee, a lover is not a relative; and he isn't quite
a stranger; but he may end in being either, and the way to reduce him to
whichever of the two you wish him to be is to treat him like the other.
Men who come courting are just like bad cooks: if you are kind to them,
instead of ascribing it to an exceptional courtesy on your part, they
instantly set it down to their own marvellous worth.'

'But I ought to favour him just a little, poor thing? Just the smallest
glimmer of a gleam!'

'Only a very little indeed--so that it comes as a relief to his misery,
not as adding to his happiness.'

'It is being too clever, all this; and we ought to be harmless as doves.'

'Ah, Picotee! to continue harmless as a dove you must be wise as a
serpent, you'll find--ay, ten serpents, for that matter.'

'But if I cannot get at him, how can I manage him in these ways you speak
of?'

'Get at him? I suppose he gets at you in some way, does he not?--tries
to see you, or to be near you?'