Miss Daisy Miller looked extremely innocent.
Some people had told him that, after all, American girls
were exceedingly innocent; and others had told him that,
after all, they were not. He was inclined to think Miss Daisy
Miller was a flirt--a pretty American flirt. He had never,
as yet, had any relations with young ladies of this category.
He had known, here in Europe, two or three women--persons older
than Miss Daisy Miller, and provided, for respectability's sake,
with husbands--who were great coquettes--dangerous, terrible women,
with whom one's relations were liable to take a serious turn.
But this young girl was not a coquette in that sense; she was
very unsophisticated; she was only a pretty American flirt.
Winterbourne was almost grateful for having found the formula
that applied to Miss Daisy Miller. He leaned back in his seat;
he remarked to himself that she had the most charming nose
he had ever seen; he wondered what were the regular conditions
and limitations of one's intercourse with a pretty American flirt.
It presently became apparent that he was on the way to learn.
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