So he just said any bright thing that came into his mind. Mabel looked very tired. She admitted she was tired. She said she had walked about a thousand miles.
“And then I come back to this kind of thing,” she said.
The rest of the dinner, which was brief, passed in complete silence. Then Mabel went into the drawing-room, and Luke remained behind and lit a cigarette.
“This will never do,” he said to himself. “I must keep it up. I must be pleasant. I must say number one of those six sentences about Doom Dagshaw and the Mammoth Circus, even it if splits my palate and my tongue drops out.”
He threw down his cigarette, walked firmly into the drawing-room, and closed the door. “Mabel,” he said, “I hope you enjoyed your visit to the Doom Circus with Mr. Mammoth Dagshaw.”
Mabel looked up coldly from the book she was reading.
“Back again already?” she said. “Well, what was it you were saying?”
“I was saying,” said Luke gaily, “that I hoped you enjoyed your visit to the Dammoth Circus with Mr. Dag Moomshaw.”
“Port never did agree with you,” said Mabel. “You shouldn’t take it.” She resumed her book.
Luke tried the second of the pleasant sentences.