“Why, you told my father you were not a friend of the Mikado!”
“Certainly I told him so. I am not a friend of the Mikado; therefore why should I claim to be?”
“Oh!” she cried, with a fine gesture of disdain, “you are trying to do the George Washington act!”
“The George Washington act!” I repeated.
“Certainly. Of course you don’t see that. He could not tell a lie, you know.”
“Ah, I understand you. No, I am doing the Mark Twain act. I can tell a lie, but I won’t.”
“Not even for me?” she asked, looking up at me with that winning smile of hers.
“Ah, when you put it that way I fear I shall be unable to emulate the truthfulness of either George or Mark.”
“Now that isn’t so bad,” she said, taking my arm again, which gave me the hope that I had been at least partially restored to favour.
“You certainly intimated to me yesterday that you were a friend of the Mikado.”