‘I once took half a dozen, but that was a poor affair too.’ ‘How could one man take half a dozen?’ ‘Just in the usual way. I surrounded them.’ ‘Kenneth, you’re just my ideal.’ ‘You’re easily pleased.’ He turns again to the bed. ‘Let’s see how the thing works.’ He kneads the mattress with his fist, and the result is so satisfactory that he puts down his kit. ‘Old lady, if you really want me, I’ll bide.’ ‘Oh! oh! oh! oh!’ Her joy is so demonstrative that he has to drop a word of warning. ‘But, mind you, I don’t accept you as a relation. For your personal glory, you can go on pretending to the neighbours; but the best I can say for you is that you’re on your probation. I’m a cautious character, and we must see how you’ll turn out.’ ‘Yes, Kenneth.’ ‘And now, I think, for that bath. My theatre begins at six-thirty. A cove I met on a ‘bus is going with me.’ She is a little alarmed. ‘You’re sure you’ll come back?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ handsomely, ‘I leave my kit in pledge.’ ‘You won’t liquor up too freely, Kenneth?’ ‘You’re the first,’ chuckling, ‘to care whether I do or not.’ Nothing she has said has pleased the lonely man so much as this. ‘I promise. Tod, I’m beginning to look forward to being wakened in the morning by hearing you cry, “Get up, you lazy swine.” I’ve kind of envied men that had womenfolk with the right to say that.’ He is passing to the bathroom when a diverting notion strikes him. ‘What is it, Kenneth?’ ‘The theatre. It would be showier if I took a lady.’ Mrs. Dowey feels a thumping at her breast. ‘Kenneth, tell me this instant what you mean. Don’t keep me on the jumps.’ He turns her round. ‘No, it couldn’t be done.’ ‘Was it me you were thinking of?’ ‘Just for the moment,’ regretfully, ‘but you have no style.’ She catches hold of him by the sleeve. ‘Not in this, of course. But, oh, Kenneth, if you saw me in my merino! It’s laced up the back in the very latest.’ ‘Hum,’ doubtfully; ‘but let’s see it.’ It is produced from a drawer, to which the old lady runs with almost indecent haste. The connoisseur examines it critically. ‘Looks none so bad. Have you a bit of chiffon for the neck? It’s not bombs nor Kaisers nor Tipperary that men in the trenches think of, it’s chiffon.’ ‘I swear I have, Kenneth. And I have a bangle, and a muff, and gloves.’ ‘Ay, ay.’ He considers. ‘Do you think you could give your face less of a homely look?’ ‘I’m sure I could.’ ‘Then you can have a try. But, mind you, I promise nothing. All will depend on the effect.’