“I fear not.”
“You must try an infallible recipe for winning a woman’s heart. You must be in trouble.”
“In trouble!”
“I have tried it once myself, with great success.”
“Bot how?”
“You must fall ill.”
“Bot I cannot; I am too healthful, alas!”
Mr Bunker smiled artfully. “They come to tea in our rooms to-morrow, you know. By then, Baron, you must be laid up, ill or not, just as you please. A grain of Lady Alicia’s sympathy is worth more than a ton of even your wit.”
The standard chosen for the measurement of his wit escaped the Baron, the scheme delighted him.
“Ha, Bonker! schön! I tvig! Goot!” he cried. “How shall ve do?”