Page 241 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

'Well . . . '

He might be a good shag, I suppose,' I supplied.

'Or a fantastically skillful potter.'

'Or a qualified aromatherapist.'

'Will you have dinner with me, Bridget?' he said abruptly, and rather crossly,
as if he was going to sit me down at a table somewhere and tell me off.

I stopped and stared at him. 'Has my mum put you up to this?' I said,
suspiciously.

'No . . . I . . . '

'Una Alconbury?'

'No, no . . . '

Suddenly I realized what was going on. 'It's your mum, isn't it?'

'Well, my mother has . . . '

'I don't want to be asked out to dinner just because your mum wants you to.
Anyway, what would we talk about? You'd just ask me if I've read any good
books lately and then I'd have to make up some pathetic lie and - '

He stared at me in consternation. 'But Una Alconbury told me you were a sort

of literary whizz-woman, completely obsessed with books.'

'Did she?' I said, rather pleased by the idea suddenly. 'What else did she tell

you?'