He would be very amusing if he didn't aim so persistently at going one better than someone else in his anecdotes.
People were talking at dinner about your having massacred the natives with dynamite--you did, you know, Mr.Courtland." "Oh, yes; I have admitted so much long ago.

There was no help for it." "Well, of course everyone was laughing when papa told how the massacre came about, and this annoyed Mr.Geraint and induced him to tell a story about a poor woman who fancied that melinite was a sort of food for children that caused their portraits to appear in the advertisements; so she bought a tin of it and gave it all to her little boy at one meal.

It so happened, however, that he became restless during the night and fell out of his cradle.

That happened a year ago, Mr.Geraint said, and yet the street isn't quite ready for traffic yet." "That little anecdote of Mr.Geraint makes me feel very meek.

If at any time I am tempted to think with pride upon my dynamite massacre, I shall remember Mr.Geraint's story, and hang my head." "We were all amused at Mr.Geraint's lively imagination, but much more so when Mr.Topham, the under-secretary, shook his head gravely, and said in his most dignified manner, that he thought the reported occurrence--the melinite incident--quite improbable.