Reader, had it been you or I, the beauty would have been the
deserter, the average one would have stayed with us till all was
blue, ourselves included; not more surely does our slice of bread
and butter, when it escapes from our hand, revolve it ever so often,
alight face downward on the carpet. But this was a bit of a fop,
Adonis, dragoon, --so Venus remained in tete-a-tete with him. You
have seen a dog meet an unknown female of his species; how handsome,
how _empresse_, how expressive he becomes: such was Dolignan
after Swindon, and, to do the dog justice, he got handsome and
handsomer. And you have seen a cat conscious of approaching cream:
such was Miss Haythorn; she became demurer and demurer. Presently
our captain looked out of the window and laughed; this elicited an
inquiring look from Miss Haythorn.
"We are only a mile from the Box Tunnel."
"Do you always laugh a mile from the Box Tunnel?" said the lady.
"Invariably."
"What for?"
"Why, hem! it is a gentleman's joke."
Captain Dolignan then recounted to Miss Haythorn the following:
"A lady and her husband sat together going through the Box Tunnel;
there was one gentleman opposite; it was pitch-dark.
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