"There must have been some strong inducement to make a girl of her gentle nature undertake so bold, so daring, a step. It was a strictly improper action," says the old man, in his most stilted style.
"I dare say. Imprudent, however, was the word I used. I am rather glad I was the one to meet her, as she knew me; and, as a rule, people talk so much about nothing, and make such mountains out of mole-hills."
"It was fortunate, indeed, your meeting her. It might, in fact, almost be termed a curious coincidence, your managing to be on this deserted walk just at the required moment."
There is something so unpleasant, so sneering, about his tone that Dorian colors hotly.
"I confess I hardly see it in the light you do," he says, easily enough, but very coldly. "And I think I should term the coincidence 'lucky,' rather than curious. I see no difference between this walk and half a dozen others. People don't seem to affect any of them much."
"No," says Lord Sartoris.
"Any other fellow might have been here as well as me. You, for example."
"Just so!" says Lord Sartoris.
"Then why bring in the word curious?"
"It merely occurred to me at the moment," says his lordship, drily. "Been dancing much?"