“My clients are all batriots,” said the young dentist, “and my bractice is Kaput. We are in a bad way, sir,” he added, with a smile, “but we try to do the correct ting.”
Mr. Lavender saw the young woman move the tweezers in a manner which caused his blood to run a little cold.
“We must live,” he heard her say.
“Young madam,” he said, “I honour the impulse which makes you desire to extend your husband's practice. Indeed, I perceive you both to be so honourable that I cannot but make you a confession. My tooth is indeed sound, though, since I have been pretending that it isn't, it has caused me much discomfort. I came here largely to form an opinion of your husband's character, with a view to securing his internment.”
At that word the two young people shrank together till they were standing side by side, staring at Mr Lavender with eyes full of anxiety and wonder. Their hands, which still held the implements of dentistry, insensibly sought each other.
“Be under no apprehension,” cried Mr. Lavender, much moved; “I can see that you are greatly attached, and even though your husband is a German, he is still a man, and I could never bring myself to separate him from you.”
“Who are you?” said the young woman in a frightened voice, putting her arm round her husband's waist.
“Just a public man,” answered Mr. Lavender.
“I came here from a sense of duty; nothing more, assure you.”
“Who put you up to it?”