Trist moved slightly, and shook the ash from his pipe over the side.
'Brenda was terrified,' he said resignedly.
'I was startled,' admitted the girl, 'that was all. And the result was a very learned discourse on courage, its source and value, by Theo.'
'I always thought,' said he to Mrs. Wylie, in a mildly disappointed tone, 'that she was plucky.'
Mrs. Wylie laughed, and then with sudden gravity nodded her head significantly.
'So she is—very plucky.'
'I think,' suggested Brenda, 'that it would be better taste, and more natural, perhaps, to discuss me behind my back.'
Trist laughed.
'I never discuss anyone,' he said. 'That is a lady's privilege and monopoly. Men are usually fully occupied in talking about themselves, and have no time to devote to the study of their surroundings.'
'I generally find that men say either too much or too little about themselves,' observed Mrs. Wylie. 'There is no medium between the super-egotistical and the hyper-reserved. Among my young men, and I have a great number, there are some who tell me everything, and others who tell me nothing. The former appear to think that the universe revolves round them, that they are superlatively interesting, and that their relations are the same in ratio to the closeness of their connection with the axis of the social world—that is, to themselves. Consequently I hear all sorts of confidences, and many totally pointless stories.'