"Well, what can I do about it?"
"Just this. For five minutes I want you to play the rôle of my friend's discarded victim."
"I don't get it."
"I will put it more plainly. In a short while this girl will arrive, probably in company with my friend, who has gone to meet her at the station. You will be waiting outside here. At an appropriate moment you will rush into the room, hold out your arms to my friend and cry 'George! George! Why did you desert me? You don't belong to that girl there. You belong to me—the woman you have wronged!'"
"Not on your life!"
"What!"
Fanny drew herself up haughtily.
"Not on your life!" she said. "Suppose my husband got to hear of it!"
"Are you married?"
"Married this morning at the Little Church Round the Corner."