Conversation was somewhat fitful. Finally
he decided to guide it into literary channels, where he was more at
home, and, turning to his companion, asked;
"Are you fond of literature?"
"Passionately," she replied. "I love books dearly."
"Then you must admire Sir Walter Scott," he exclaimed with sudden
animation. "Is not his 'Lady of the Lake' exquisite in its flowing
grace and poetic imagery? Is it not----"
"It is perfectly lovely," she assented, clasping her hands in
ecstasy. "I suppose I have read it a dozen times."
"And Scott's 'Marmion/" he continued, "with its rugged simplicity and
marvelous description--one can almost smell the heather on the heath
while perusing its splendid pages."
"It is perfectly grand," she murmured.
"And Scott's 'Peveril of the Peak' and his noble 'Bride of
Lammermoor'--where in the English language will you find anything
more heroic than his grand auld Scottish characters and his graphic,
forceful pictures of feudal times and customs? You like them, I am
sure."
"I just dote upon them," she replied.
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