“I wonder where my husband can be,” the lady whispered.
“Ach, heed him not, fair lady,” replied the Baron. “Am I not instead of a hosband?”
“I’m afraid you’re a very naughty man, Baron.”
“Ven I am viz you,” the gallant Baron answered, “I forget myself all bot your charms.”
These advances being made in the most dulcet tones of which the nobleman was master, and accompanied by the most enamoured expression, it is not surprising that the lady permitted herself to listen to them with perhaps too ready an ear. What Mr Bunker’s arrangement with the booking clerk had been was never quite clear, but certainly the erring husband failed to make his appearance at all, and at the last fall of the curtain she was easily persuaded to let the Baron escort her home.
“I know I ought not, but if a husband deserts one so faithlessly, what can I do?” she said, with a very becoming little shrug of her shoulders and a captivating lift of her eyebrows.
“Ah, vat indeed? He desairves not so fair a consort.”
“But won’t it be troubling you?”
“Trouble? Pleasure and captivation!”
“Excuse me, Baron,” said the voice of Mr Bunker at his elbow; “if you will wait here at the door I shall send up a cab.”