The only thing was that, if he was to leave it ALL to her, why exactly had she sent for him?
He had had, vaguely, in advance, his explanation, his view of the probability of her wishing to set something right, to deal in some way with the fraud so lately practised on his presumed credulity.

Would she attempt to carry it further or would she blot it out?
Would she throw over it some more or less happy colour; or would she do nothing about it at all?
He perceived soon enough at least that, however reasonable she might be, she wasn't vulgarly confused, and it herewith pressed upon him that their eminent "lie," Chad's and hers, was simply after all such an inevitable tribute to good taste as he couldn't have wished them not to render.

Away from them, during his vigil, he had seemed to wince at the amount of comedy involved; whereas in his present posture he could only ask himself how he should enjoy any attempt from her to take the comedy back.

He shouldn't enjoy it at all; but, once more and yet once more, he could trust her.

That is he could trust her to make deception right.