“More overjoyed than I can tell you.”
“No doubts, no misgivings, no uneasiness over what I may do or say to shock the worshipers?”
“I have confidence in your ability as an actress, Josephine,” he said. “I am sure you can play the part of a lady as well as anything else.”
She flushed. “Score one,” she said. Then she sprang to her feet, the old light of mischief in her wonderful eyes. “But, my God, Herby, what’s going to happen when I spring all my spangles on the innocent public?”
“I shudder when I think of it,” said he, lifting his eyes heavenward.
“I saved every respectable costume I’ve worn in the last ten years—and some that are shocking. Twelve trunks full of them. I’ll knock their eyes out when I come on as the Princess Jalinka—last act glorification—and as for the gold and turquoise gown that caused old London to blink its weary eyes and catch its jaded breath—my word, Herby, old thing, they’ll have me up for wholesale murder. They’ll die all over the place.”
“I really ought to caution you, Josephine—”
“Never mind, old dear. I sha’n’t disgrace you. I’ve got a few costumes I will put on in private for you—and I wouldn’t feel safe in putting ’em on privately for any one except a preacher in whom I had the most unusual confidence. Bless your heart, Herby, don’t look so horrified. I’ve still got my marriage certificate—though God only knows where it is.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ve got it, my dear. You neglected to take it away with you when you left.”
She smiled. “Well, I daresay it was safer with you than it would have been with me.”