“That means aux Kalendes Grecques. Why not this beautiful afternoon?”
“If you’ll come with me.”
“I’ve rather a headache—or I would,” said Corinna. “As it is, I think I’ll have to lie down. But you go. It would do you good.”
“Aha!” thought Martin astutely, “she wants to get rid of me, so that she can escape by the afternoon train to Paris.” Aloud he said, “I’ll go to-morrow.”
“Why not to-day?”
“I don’t feel like it,” said he.
Not for the first time she struck an obstinate seam in Martin. He turned a deaf ear both to her cajolings and her reproaches. To some degree he felt himself responsible for Corinna, as a man must do who acts as escort or what you will to an attractive and penniless young woman. If she had decided to rush home to England, it was certainly his duty to make commodious arrangements for her journey.
“I’m going to loaf about to-day,” he announced.
“Like the selfish pig you always are,” said Corinna.
“Comme tu veux,” said Martin cheerfully.