"
"There never was a prettier maid," he answered, walking by her side.
"I suppose you know a great many," she suggested.
"They are all cast into oblivion----"
"Is it your experience," said Bridget, turning to look into his face,
"that they appreciate this--this sort of thing?"
"Don't you?" asked Jimmy.
"I rather prefer being spoken to as if I were a reasonable being!"
"I was hoping you were not one," he said. "The spring is too
intoxicating. Everything," he continued, as they turned with one
consent from Knightsbridge into the park, "seems unaccustomed, fresh,
young, and you the most of all. Hang being reasonable! Suggest
something mad and let us do it together. But," he cried, abruptly
changing his tone, "what should you like me to talk about?"
"I suppose your favourite topic is yourself," she said. "Tell me what
you do--if ever you do anything."
"I don't," he replied. "I am what is called a spoilt child of fortune."
"You like being spoilt?"
"It depends on the spoiler. Sometimes I hate it."
"Why?" asked Bridget.
"Oh well," he said, as they walked by the side of Rotten Row, and Jimmy
occasionally lifted his straw hat to some passer-by who did not fail to
stare at his companion, "if we have to be serious, one has moments of
inspiration and pines for better things.
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