“My idea is,” she said briskly, “that Mr. Ivor Pelham Marlay should tell us a story on a given theme. We will give him the theme, and he will tell us the story.... Now won’t that be nice for you, Ivor?” she sweetly asked him.
“Charming,” he said viciously.
“I know!” cried Lois. “The theme must be the most fatuous theme ever put to a man. It must be a motto, a moral, or an Oscar Wilde epigram—but it must be fatuous!” She turned to her husband. “Johnny dear, you’ve said so many fatuous things in your life, can’t you think of one someone else has said—just for once, dear?”
“Familiarity Breeds Contempt,” said Johnny modestly.
“Well,” snapped Ivor, “without a little familiarity you can’t breed anything, can you?”
Johnny sighed, and tried again:—
“Every Good Action Brings Its Own Reward.”
“Oh, splendid, Johnny!” cried Virginia.
But Ivor shook his head helplessly.
“But you must, Ivor!” Virginia insisted seriously. “I shall count up to five, and if by then you can’t tell us a tale to prove that Every Good Action Brings Its Own Reward, your reputation will be for ever blasted—not only as an author, Ivor, but as an officer-and-a-gentleman.”