“Well, you've been 'going it,'” persisted Miss Greene. “Besides, she did not mean 'going it.' She meant the real thing, only she did not like to say the word. We talked about it after you had gone. She said she would give anything to see you more like the ordinary man. And that is her idea of the ordinary man.”
Mr. Korner's sluggishness of comprehension irritated Miss Greene. She leaned across the table and shook him. “Don't you understand? You have done it on purpose to teach her a lesson. It is she who has got to ask you to forgive her.”
“You think—?”
“I think, if you manage it properly, it will be the best day's work you have ever done. Get out of the house before she wakes. I shall say nothing to her. Indeed, I shall not have the time; I must catch the ten o'clock from Paddington. When you come home this evening, you talk first; that's what you've got to do.” And Mr. Korner, in his excitement, kissed the bosom friend before he knew what he had done.
Mrs. Korner sat waiting for her husband that evening in the drawing-room. She was dressed as for a journey, and about the corners of her mouth were lines familiar to Christopher, the sight of which sent his heart into his boots. Fortunately, he recovered himself in time to greet her with a smile. It was not the smile he had been rehearsing half the day, but that it was a smile of any sort astonished the words away from Mrs. Korner's lips, and gave him the inestimable advantage of first speech.
“Well,” said Mr. Korner cheerily, “and how did you like it?”
For the moment Mrs. Korner feared her husband's new complaint had already reached the chronic stage, but his still smiling face reassured her—to that extent at all events.
“When would you like me to 'go it' again? Oh, come,” continued Mr. Korner in response to his wife's bewilderment, “you surely have not forgotten the talk we had at breakfast-time—the first morning of Mildred's visit. You hinted how much more attractive I should be for occasionally 'letting myself go!'”
Mr. Korner, watching intently, perceived that upon Mrs. Korner recollection was slowly forcing itself.
“I was unable to oblige you before,” explained Mr. Korner, “having to keep my head clear for business, and not knowing what the effect upon one might be. Yesterday I did my best, and I hope you are pleased with me. Though, if you could see your way to being content—just for the present and until I get more used to it—with a similar performance not oftener than once a fortnight, say, I should be grateful,” added Mr. Korner.