He rang the bell effusively (the heartiness of the action was typical of the welcome he gave to his wife’s suggestion), and ordered the note to be sent.
“By Jove! Amy,” he said, “what a one you always are for thinking of things. And if you wish it, I’ll try to make a presentable figure of myself, though I’m sure I should be more in place at home waiting for your return to hear all about it. But I’ll do my best, I’ll do my best, and I dare say the Venetian cloak isn’t so shabby after all. I have always been careful to keep a bit of naphthaline in the box with it.”
Flirtation may not be incorrectly defined as making the pretence of being in love, and yet it is almost too solid a word to apply to Major Ames’ relations with Mrs. Evans during the week or two before the ball, and it would be more accurate to say that he was making the pretence of having a flirtation. Even as when he kissed her on that daring evening already described, he was thinking entirely about himself and the dashingness of this proceeding, so in the days that succeeded, this same inept futility and selfsatisfaction possessed him. He made many secret visits to the house, entering like a burglar, in the middle of the afternoon, by an unfrequented passage from the railway cutting, at hours when she told him that her husband and daughter would certainly be out, and the secrecy of those meetings added spice to them. He felt--so deplorable a frame of mind almost defies description--he felt a pleasing sense of wickedness which was endorsed, so to speak, by the certificate which attested to his complete innocence. As far as he was concerned, it was a mere farce of a flirtation. But the farce filled him with a kind of childish glee; he persuaded himself that his share in it was real, and that by a tragic fate he and the woman who were made for each other were forbidden to find the fruition of their affinity. It was an adventure without danger, a mine without gunpowder. For even on two occasions when he was paying one of these clandestine visits, Dr. Evans had unexpectedly returned and found them together. The poor blind man, it seemed, suspected nothing; indeed, his welcome had been extremely cordial.
“Good of you to come and help my wife over her party,” he said. “What you’d do without Major Ames, little woman, I don’t know. Won’t you stop for dinner, Major?”