There was no need for me to maintain the conversation. Lady Muriel and Arthur were evidently on those most delightful of terms, where one has no need to check thought after thought, as it rises to the lips, with the fear 'this will not be appreciated——this will give offence——this will sound too serious——this will sound flippant': like very old friends, in fullest sympathy, their talk rippled on.
"Why shouldn't we desert the Picnic and go in some other direction?" she suddenly suggested. "A party of four is surely self-sufficing? And as for food, our hamper——"
"Why shouldn't we? What a genuine lady's argument!" laughed Authur. "A lady never knows on which side the onus probandi——the burden of proving——lies!"
"Do men always know?" she asked with a pretty assumption of meek docility.
"With one exception the only one I can think of——Dr. Watts, who has asked the senseless question
'Why should I deprive my neighbour
Of his goods against his will?'
