her to go to bed. It was three o'clock, and we thought you would not
mind." Miss Greene drew up a chair, and, with her elbows on the
table, looked across at Mr. Korner. Decidedly there was a twinkle in
the eyes of Mrs. Korner's bosom friend.

"You'll never do it again," suggested Miss Greene.

"Do you think it possible," cried Mr. Korner, "that she may forgive
me?"

"No, I don't," replied Miss Greene. At which Mr. Korner's face fell
back to zero. "I think the best way out will be for you to forgive
her."

The idea did not even amuse him. Miss Greene glanced round to satisfy
herself that the door was still closed, and listened a moment to
assure herself of the silence.

"Don't you remember," Miss Greene took the extra precaution to whisper
it, "the talk we had at breakfast-time the first morning of my visit,
when Aimee said you would be all the better for 'going it'
occasionally?"

Yes, slowly it came back to Mr. Korner. But she only said "going it,"
Mr. Korner recollected to his dismay.

"Well, you've been 'going it,'" persisted Miss Greene. "Besides, she
did not mean 'going it.' She meant the real thing, only she did not
like to say the word. We talked about it after you had gone. She
said she would give anything to see you more like the ordinary man.