“Two hundred and thirty,” said Elfrida, returning his kiss cordially. “You are nice, you know. I wish you were real. I’d better go back to Bet now.”
“Real?” he said.
“Oh, I’m talking nonsense, I know,” said Elfrida. “I’ll go now.”
“The absent tray will betray you,” said he, taking food and wine from it and setting them on the table. “Now I will carry this down again. You have all the courage, but not quite the cunning of a conspirator.”
“How long are you going to stay here?” Elfrida asked. “I suppose you’re escaping from some one or something, like in history?”
“I shall not stay long,” he said. “If any one should ask you if you have seen the King, what would you say?”
“I should say ‘no,’” said Elfrida boldly. “You see, I can’t possibly know that you’re the King. You just say so, that’s all. Perhaps really you aren’t.”
“Exquisite!” said he. “So you don’t believe me?”
“Oh, yes, I do!” said Elfrida; “but I needn’t, you know.”
“S’life!” he said. “But I wish I were. There’d be a coronet for somebody.”