“Now,” she continued, “how can we do it?”
“I’m pretty well up on the litany,” I whispered. “If you can do the supplications I can respond with the ‘miserable sinner’ part.”
Kate laughed merrily, even while shaking her head reprovingly. Kate has nice teeth. “You are painfully frank,” she told me.
“Frank?”
“Yes. You are probably not a bit more miserable than I am, but I don’t groan aloud.”
“Oh, I say!” I exclaimed, rather horrified at the construction my speech had been given. “It would be pure form, you know, quite as it is in church, and not mean a bit more than it does when the sinner’s pretty and wears a French gown.”
Kate drew her mouth down into a church-going expression, which was very fetching in its demureness, but which wasn’t suitable for our public performance, so I remarked:
“Don’t look so disapproving. The saintly vein suits the Madonna type, but the Cortelyou forte lies in quite another direction.”
I won another laugh from those unsaintly lips. “You are worse than I thought,” she added.
“Then you have thought of me?” I inquired, beginning to mellow under her laugh. That was a mistake, for her face instantly became serious, and her eyes gave a flash.