"Hello! Going for a walk?"
"Yes, I need exercise."
"So do I. I'll come with you if I may. I was just going to start out alone."
"Wouldn't you rather go alone?"
He looked at her, scorning to reply, then jammed the pipe in his mouth and reached for his hat and a stick. His chin was particularly aggressive, his blue eyes smouldered ominously. She forebore to question him, and they left the house and walked briskly along the road for two hundred yards before either attempted to break the silence. At last, with his pipe-stem between his teeth, he spoke.
"I wish," he said in a hard voice, "that people would not tell lies simply for the sake of lying. A good, thumping lie in the right place is a thing I thoroughly uphold. But pointless untruths irritate me beyond measure."
She stole a look at him.
"Perhaps," she ventured, "the person who has incurred your displeasure believes in the saying of Pudd'nhead Wilson—'Truth is the most valuable thing we have. Let us economise it!'"
His face relaxed for a moment, then stiffened again.
"No, but hang it, Esther, I'm damned annoyed."