Clad in some close-fitting fabric that exuded a most licentious scent, I could see at once that these well-chosen words had had a profound and immediate effect upon her. Turning her back on me, she emitted a hoarse gasp, and then collapsing upon the sofa, she lay there choking and convulsed in what appeared to be an attack of acute hysteria. Startled but unmoved, and still sustaining my trousers, I gravely awaited her recovery.
“Oh dear,” she said, wiping her eyes, and then after looking at me again, she collapsed once more. Then she sat up, fanning herself with her handkerchief.
“You must really forgive me,” she said, “but you looked so stern.”
“I should scarcely have thought,” I replied, inclining my head a little, “that as a Xtian gentleman you could have expected me to look otherwise.”
“Oh no,” she said, “no, of course not. Just suppose—oh dear, oh dear.”
Then she wiped her eyes again.
“Wouldn’t you be better sitting down?” she asked.
“I thank you,” I said. “But I prefer to stand.”
She folded up her handkerchief and placed it in a small bag.
“Well, you know best,” she said. “What do you want me to do?”