He would have gone with the words, but imperiously she detained him.
"You must wait a minute now. I want to speak about—about that compact we made the other day. You—you knew I was only joking, didn't you? You didn't—really—? tell Major Hunt-Goring—that?"
"Yes, I did," said Max. "And do you generally go and cry into the surgery towel when you are enjoying a joke?"
"Oh, Max! You told him?" Her face was tragic. "And what did he say?"
"He congratulated me," said Max.
"Max!"
"My dear girl, I'm telling you the truth; but really, since you have discharged yourself as cured, this has become a highly improper situation. Don't you think we had better postpone this discussion to a more suitable moment?"
Max was openly laughing into her face of distress. She suddenly felt abundantly reassured. He could not—surely—look and speak like this if he dreamed of wooing her in earnest!
"I don't want any discussion," she hastened to tell him. "Only—please, do go and tell Major Hunt-Goring that—that—there's been a mistake, and—in short—"
"In short that you've thrown me over?" said Max. "Oh, thanks, no! You can tell him that—if you wish!"