coquette_ means 'she dresses very elegantly, and has very winning
manners,' whereas _C'est une coquette_ means 'she is a coquette,' that
is to say, 'she tries to fascinate for the mere sake of fascinating.'

The coquette plays on man's vanity and makes a fool of him. The flirt
displays her accomplishments and personal charms either to make you
have a pleasant time with her, or, when more serious, to lead you on to
an offer of marriage, which she will honestly accept, often with the
best results for yourself.

It is only when you say of a woman that she is a 'desperate flirt' that
you may come to the conclusion that she is a coquette. Of course, when
the flirt is a married woman, she is a coquette; but when she is a
young girl, I would call her a very harmless person. On the other hand,
in opposition to that epithet of harmless, the adjective that is most
commonly coupled with the word 'coquette' is not 'harmless,' but
'heartless.'

The word 'flirt' comes from the French _fleureter_, which means to
go from flower to flower, to touch lightly; but although the word is of
French origin, the thing itself is not French. Flirtation is a pastime
which is most essentially English. We do not flirt in France; we are
more serious than that in love-affairs. After all, flirtation is
trifling with love, and that game would be a dangerous one to play with
a Frenchman. A woman who flirts would pass in France for giddy, if not
worse. She knows her countryman well, and is aware what she would
expose herself to if she flirted with him.

The English girl in flirting does not play with fire. Englishmen are
reserved, cold. The customs of the country grant liberty to the women,
and they accept flirtation for what it is worth. The worst they might
say of a girl who flirted with them would be, 'She is an awful flirt,'
with a mixed expression of pity and contempt. An English girl who has
had a good time at a party, a picnic, a ball, can say, 'I have had such
a flirtation!' Why, she could say that to her own mother, and if that
mother was still fairly young and good-looking, she might answer, 'And
so have I.'

I take the American woman to be too intelligent--I had almost said too
intellectual--to enjoy that childish pastime.

I hate the coquette and somewhat pity, if not despise, the flirt. I
love straightforwardness. I admire that woman who blooms in the shade,
who is earnest in her affections, and who waits until she is in love to
allow t