"Have you ever had any accidents on the road ?" "Accidents ?" Lord Wrotham put up an eyeglass.

"Accidents?
What do you mean ?" "Why, what should I mean except what I say!" And Tom gave a sudden loud laugh,--a laugh which made the hostess at the bar start nervously, while many of the men seated round the various tables exchanged uneasy glances.

"Accidents are accidents all the world over! Haven't you ever been thrown out, upset, shaken in body, broken in bone, or otherwise involved in mischief ?" Lord Wrotham smiled, and let his eyeglass fall with a click against his top waistcoat button.
"Never!" he said, taking his cigar from his mouth, looking at it, and then replacing it with a relish--"I'm too fond of my own life to run any risk of losing it.

Other people's lives don't matter so much, but mine is precious! Eh, Brookfield ?" Brookfield chuckled himself purple in the face over this pleasantry, and declared that his lordship's wit grew sharper with every day of his existence.

Meanwhile Tom o' the Gleam moved a step or two nearer to Wrotham.
"You're a lucky lord!" he said, and again he laughed discordantly.