"I don't mind."
"It'll have to be a nonsensical one then. I couldn't tell a sensible one in a senseless place like this. No genius could. Let me see," thoughtfully, "did I tell you the story of my uncle?"
"No."
"I'm afraid it's rather sad, but never mind. It was something most extraordinary that happened to my Uncle Bill—or was it my Uncle John? Never mind, it was one of them. It must have been, because they're the only two uncles I've got. Well, he was standing one day in front of his fire, when a dreadful thing occurred. His backbone melted."
"What!" gasped Erica.
"His backbone melted. Of course, that made him very ill, but fortunately the doctors knew what to do. They packed him round in ice and it froze again, and now he's walking about just the same as ever."
"I don't believe it," cried Erica scornfully. "It couldn't happen."
"I don't know about that. I'm telling you just what he told me."
"Then your uncle was only telling you stories."
"I think that depends on which uncle it was. You see, Uncle John is a very truthful man. But my Uncle Bill probably doesn't always tell the truth."