human
I couldn't have done that as well as you did it, I confess,
gpt
It's easy enough when you've got the knack, replied the
human
Lightning Conductor.
gpt
So, no doubt, is reeling, writhing, and fainting in coils. Motoring down these serpentine hills is like hurling yourself into space, and trusting to Providence.
human
So is all of life, said Jack.
gpt
A timid man might say the same of getting out of bed in the morning.
human
Even I can do the trick, cut in Molly, who was taking a temporary interest in our affairs again.
gpt
At least, I can this year, now that chickens are better than they used to be.
human
They _are_ looking nice and fat this summer
gpt
I don't mean that, explained Molly.
human
But they are more sensible. Last year, before Jack and I were married, chickens were so bad that I used to dream of nothing else in my sleep. I had chicken nightmares. The absurd creatures never would realise when they were well off, but even in the midst of laying a most important egg on one side of the road, our automobile had only to come whizzing along to convince them that salvation depended on getting across to the other. This year they seem to have formed a sort of Chicken Club, a league of defence against motors, and to have started a propaganda.