He dropped his still flaming match on the hard gravel walk and put his foot upon it.
“A star!”
He was very vicious.
“She is not a particularly good talker, but she is a most fascinating listener,” said Edmund Airey, who strolled up.
“I have noticed so much—when you have been the talker,” said Harold. “It is only to the brilliant talker that the fascinating listener appeals. By the way, how does ‘fascinated listener’ sound as a phrase? Haven’t I read somewhere that the speeches of an eminent politician were modelled on the principle of catching birds by night? You flash a lamp upon them and they may be captured by the score. The speeches were compared to the lantern and the public to the birds.”
“Gulls,” said Edmund. “My dear Harold, I did not come out here to exchange opinions with you on the vexed question of vote-catching or gulls—it will be time enough to do so when you have found a constituency.”
“Quite. And meantime I am to think of Miss Craven as a fascinating listener? That’s what you have come to impress upon me.”
“I mean that you should give yourself a fair chance of becoming acquainted with her powers as a listener—I mean that you should talk to her on an interesting topic.”
“Would to heaven that I had your capacity of being interesting on all topics.”
“The dullest man on earth when talking to a woman on love as a topic, is infinitely more interesting to her than the most brilliant man when talking to her on any other topic.”