She said it with a face all laughter. That the statement took him aback was evident. He started and stared as if he could not make out if she were in jest or earnest. "My--what?" "Your wife." "I suppose you're joking?" "Not at all; I've seldom felt less like it. Being a wife is a very serious thing. Aren't you conscious of your weighty responsibilities as a husband?" "I know you're joking." A strange something came on to his face which might have been a smile, but, if it was, it was a pathetic one. She smiled back at him. Into her smile there came, upon an instant, a something which was hardly genial. "But I'm not joking. You are Sir Jocelyn Kingstone, and I am Lady Kingstone, your lawful wife." "Now, I do know that you are pulling my leg, in spite of the something wrong up here." He touched his forehead with his finger. "I do know that my name is not Kingstone, and I'm just as sure that I'm not married--no such luck." "Can't you regard yourself as married for, say, a few hours, perhaps even less? Can't you act as if you were?" "What do you mean?" "Nothing much. But, you see, I've done you a favour--I don't want to mention it, but I have--and couldn't you do me one in return?" "I feel you've done me a favour--I've a sort of consciousness of it in my bones--but for the life of me I can't straighten things out." He presented an odd picture as he sat there endeavouring to get his wits into working order; he seemed to be gradually collapsing under the strain. Instead of being touched by his obviously piteous plight, it seemed to add to her amusement. "Don't let's go into details; don't try, it will only worry you. I have done you a service, and that's enough. Now I want you to do me one, and as you're a gentleman, and all that sort of thing, I don't think I shall need to ask you twice; you'll do it the first time of asking." "What is it you want me to do? I'll do what I can, but there's precious little I can do; I'm so--well, you can see for yourself how it is with me." "I've told you already what it is I want you to do. I want you to consent to regard yourself as my husband for--probably only a very few minutes." "But I don't understand. I don't see what good you're going to get from my pretending to be your husband. A very poor sort of a husband I should make." "You'll only be my husband _pro forma_--I think that's the proper term. You see, I'm in a position in which I've got to have a husband, just for a very few minutes; it doesn't matter what sort, so long as he's fairly presentable, and you know you're quite nice looking." If he heard the compliment, it went unnoticed. "It may be my muddled head, but I still don't see what you're driving at." "It's like this--I'll try to make it plain: There's a large sum of money which is due to me, but I can't get it without my husband's assistance. He's got to come with me to the banker's, and sign papers, and things like that." "Sign papers, and things like that?" "That's all."