“But this is the first time you have been into—in this country, at any rate.”
He smiled. He could have told a different story.
“I have been in South America, and the forest belts here are a joke to that. But tell me now about the shooting of the record koodoo. Your father wasn’t joking when he said it was your work?”
“No, it’s true.” Then she stopped. A sudden idea had struck her. She did not want to pose as an Amazon before this acquaintance of just three hours and three-quarters. She wished her father had said nothing about it.
“Well done. Why, you’re a regular Diana,” said Denham enthusiastically.
“A regular what? I told you I was utterly uneducated.”
“So you did, and I didn’t believe you, nor do I now. Ladies are not expected to be up in the classics, except the ‘advanced’ ones, and they’re none the better for it. Well, the party I mentioned was a mythical female given to shooting stags with a bow and arrows that wouldn’t damage a mouse—at least that’s how she’s represented in sculpture and painting. Likewise with an incidental cur or two thrown in.”
Verna laughed merrily.
“Oh, is that it?” she said. “Well, I told you I was an ignoramus.”
“Yes; but tell me now about the shooting of the record head.”