“No, I’m desperately afraid of them, and they seem to know it. The only dog I could possibly bring myself to tolerate would be a dog without teeth! Well, I must be pushing on—I hope you are making yourself very agreeable to Miss Gordon, Mr. Jervis?” she added playfully.
“I’m afraid not. My stock of ideas is rather low; perhaps you can suggest some novel and interesting topic.”
“Your own life and adventures,” cried the lady, as she passed ahead of them; “try that.”
“What were we talking about?” said Jervis. “Shall we go back to the last remark but six?”
“Easier said than done,” rejoined his companion gaily; “we must start a fresh subject.”
“Well, I doubt if my life and adventures would be of thrilling interest,” he continued, turning to Honor, and it struck her that she had never once heard her present companion allude in any way to his home or his belongings. This was a beautiful opening, if he would but avail himself of it.
“Mrs. Dashwood has set me a stiff task—it is not every one’s fortune to have an adventurous career.” (If all tales were true, sensational events had largely punctuated the lady’s own history.) “Now, which would you rather have—interesting falsehoods, or very dull truths?”
“Neither, I think.”
“And what about your life and adventures?”
“Oh, I have spent most of my days in a quiet little village, and can scarcely recall a single incident, except that I once upset a donkey cart!”