Itwas more than humiliating to be the cause of dissension between a hairdresser and his wife, not to speak of that shop-walker’s eccentric behaviour. And I did feel so strange, so topsy-turveyish. As if something had got into my veins and set them all of a glow. Ordinarily I am convinced that I should have slaughtered Mr Morrel, and the shop-walker, and the baker’s boy. But, somehow, that afternoon, although I knew that I ought to be shocked, and amazed, and furious, I could not be either of the three to anything like the extent which I was well aware I ought to have been. For some extraordinary reason I seemed almost to feel that it was quite natural that male creatures in their position of life should behave to me in what, to say the least, was a peculiar way. It was a dreadful thought, but I appeared to be possessed by a sort of consciousness that every man I met was drawn towards me by a sort of magnetic influence which both he and I well knew was irresistible. It was an extremely novel sensation, and not a very agreeable one either.
When I reached home I saw mamma watching for me through the drawing-room window. It was she who opened the door.
“So you have returned at last. And this time I hope you have brought everything!”
“Except Audrey’s ribbon. She will have to manage with what she has.”
“And why have you not brought that?”
“Because I did not propose to be insulted any further.”
“Insulted! Norah! What do you mean?”
“It’s of no consequence. Audrey will be able to manage very well without it. I know her. She has probably dozens of yards of ribbon already of just the kind she wants; only she thinks it’s too much trouble to look for it.”
Mamma eyed me doubtfully, as if she could not make me out. I should have been surprised if she could. I was not only beyond her comprehension, I was beyond my own. After a momentary pause she went on:
“Lilian has received a telegram from Mr Rumford, to say that he is calling this afternoon to ask her to come out with him this evening. Possibly he intends to say something decisive. Jane has returned, but Lilian is preparing, and you know that she doesn’t like to be hurried, and I have to change my dress, and as he may come at any moment if we are not ready you will have to receive him.”
“Mamma! Why can’t one of the others do that? You know I’m not very fond of Mr Rumford, and I’m sure he doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t talk nonsense! It’s not a question of like or dislike, you will do as I wish, he doesn’t come to see you. Audrey and Doris rather expect that Mr Carter and Mr Purchase may drop in to tea, so they are changing. Eveleen has a slight headache, and is lying down; she thinks it possible that sometime during the afternoon Mr Hammond may call, and she wants to be well enough to receive him. So until some of us are ready you will have to act as hostess.”
“In this attire?”
“You will have no time to change; somebody may come at any second; and I tell you again that they’re not coming to see you. You know very well that no one ever looks at you, whatever you have on. But run upstairs and get your hat off, and some of that unbecoming colour off your face, and do try to look decent.”
I obeyed her.
As I went upstairs I was conscious of some most singular sensations, nearly approaching to forebodings. It was absurd, yet at the bottom of my heart I suspected that if they only could have guessed, none of them would have asked me to receive those men. If disaster followed, their feelings would be beyond description, while the fault would certainly not be mine.
I was just entering my room when mamma called out to me.
“By the way, Norah, if Major Tibbet should come before I am ready keep him as much amused as possible. You know how impatient he is, and how easily bored; but I won’t be an instant longer than I can help.”
So Major Tibbet was coming also! There was evidently going to be a crowd of them as usual; though, as mamma had been careful to observe, none of them ever came to see me. But, on this occasion, it was remotely possible that a change might come o’er the spirit of the scene. Something within me seemed to hint at it.
As for Major Paul Tibbet, he was one of my pet abominations. An unsoldierly old man, painted, padded, and wigged. I should think that when he had got all off that he had put on there was nothing left of him but a mere husk. And so conceited! He talked of nothing else but women, and his conquests of them. It was nauseous. What mamma could see in him was beyond my comprehension. Yet it had dawned on me more and more, and the others had dropped hints, that if he asked her she might become Mrs Tibbet, and present us with a new papa. What a prospect! That made-up relic, whom I could have picked up and swung over my head with one hand, my papa! I remembered my father as a tall, handsome man, brave to the point of recklessness, who had broken his neck while hunting. That anyone could dream of substituting that effigy for him! I gathered that he had a deal of money. I fear that mamma is not so indifferent to that consideration as she might be.
Once inside my room I gave way to a most odd mixture of despondency and exultation. What had happened to me? What did this odd something inside me which seemed as if it would like to start me dancing, mean? Where did it come from? How? And why? What was the explanation of the singular behaviour of those men; of all those men? I could have cried, if I had not felt so disposed to laugh. It was most confusing.
On the dressing-table was the scrap of paper on which those mysterious words had been so mysteriously written. I had left it there when I went out. Could they have had anything to do with the eccentricities of those ridiculous men? My common-sense—I have common-sense, and plenty of it; it is my strongest point—told me that the mere notion was nonsense. In some way or other I had been the victim of my own imagination, though until then I was not aware that I had any to be the victim of. I am not an imaginative being. I declare I am not. Quite the other way. Still it stood to reason that I could not have seen those words coming on the paper in the way I had supposed. They must have been there before. And I had been a silly. I caught up the half-sheet, meaning to tear it into pieces for having made me make such a goose of myself.
But I could not. Something seemed to take me by the wrists and prevent me. I let the paper drop from between my fingers in a flutter of amazement. I looked at the glass in front of me. Could this be myself that I was looking at? Then I certainly was not so ill-looking as I had supposed. I might be big, but I was striking. My cheeks were aglow with health. My lips parted in a radiant smile, for which I could have kissed myself. The whitest of white teeth shone through them. My eyes laughed back at me in a fashion which set all my pulses beating. Ill-looking, with eyes like those? What rubbish people would talk! They were alive with all sorts of things, two of the daintiest, most mischievous, frankest, tenderest, dancing lures which were ever set in a woman’s head. Why, the freckles on my nose positively set them off.
Really, as I observed the reflection in that mirror I was not at all surprised at the conduct of those men. There was some excuse for them, after all. No woman might see it, but I was sure that other men would quickly. One woman is slow to see what it is in another woman which attracts a man. But I knew then. No man, and no boy either who was even in the neighbourhood of manhood, could meet those eyes without—well, without feeling some sort of a sensation. I was perfectly sure that he could not.
I put my hands up to my face, and laughed!—and actually blushed! It was so very odd. And so amusing! I felt—it is difficult to describe exactly—but I was twittering from head to foot, as with a consciousness of suddenly acquired powers which made me—I do not know precisely what word to use, but I will write it irresponsible. I was more than half-ashamed. I doubted if it was a proper feeling for a girl to have. At twenty-three one ought to be discreet.
Suddenly the door opened and Doris put her head in. She was in her petticoat, and her hair all down.
“Norah! Whatever are you figuring about before the glass for like that? Mr Purchase and Mr Carter are coming down the street; go to the drawing-room at once. Audrey and I will race down as fast as ever we can, but you must go this moment.”
She just said that, and was off again. It was as well she was, the idea of her catching me like that made me go a peony-red all over. I am not in the habit of “figuring about” before a looking-glass, and nobody can say I am.
So Mr Purchase and Mr Carter were coming down the street? I felt, well, I am afraid that I felt delighted. If Doris had only known I doubt if she would have been so anxious that I should hurry down. They were two of the very nicest boys we know, and had behaved quite decently even to me. They were sometimes apt to treat me in a free and easy, brotherly sort of fashion which I rather liked. So far as I could see there was no nonsense about them whatever. They were inseparable chums, kind of David and Jonathan, and always hunted in couples.
Jack Purchase was supposed to be a barrister, but so far as I could see the only thing he really did was to make ardent love to Doris. He was tolerably well off, but Doris was a desperate flirt and led him a tremendous dance. I believe that in her heart she more than liked him, but it seemed as if she was incapable of owning as much to any man. So many men had been over head and ears in love with her that I suppose she had come to think that it would be undignified to admit any feeling of the kind for one of them. Mamma was very anxious to get her off, and would have liked nothing better than to have had Mr Purchase as a son-in-law. But Doris did not care a snap of the fingers for what mamma said, and her partisanship rather damaged him in her eyes, if anything. She was a contrary little wretch.
Basil Carter was nothing at all, except a young gentleman of means. He was very keen to be a statesman, or a Member of Parliament, or whatever it is. He had tried to get in twice and had failed each time, but declared that the third time he meant to succeed. I hoped he would; though, for my part, I cannot see why anyone should wish to be a ridiculous M.P. I have met lots of them. They are most of them sillies, though some of them think themselves tin gods. I don’t know why. They only talk, and most of them cannot do that with decency. Nearly all the few things they do do they do all wrong, and had much better have left undone.
He has a most lovely yacht. He once took us all a cruise in it. I enjoyed it immensely, but the others did not. I do not understand how it is that some people are ill at sea; it seems so unnatural. Mamma always takes a private cabin, and is down in it before the boat starts, even when she is only crossing to Calais.
He is passionately in love with Audrey. I know it as a fact, because once he as good as told me so. But Audrey is a most difficult girl. She is imaginative if you like. I believe that she spends her time imagining herself the wife of a clever man, though what is her idea of cleverness is more than I can say. Several men, who are allowed to be not only clever in their own estimation, have asked her to marry, but she has invariably said no. Physically, she is disgracefully lazy, and loves to languish, but, mentally, she is sharp as a razor. No matter how clever the man may be who gets her, he will find that she is, at least, his match, and that he could not have had anyone more certain to help him in making his mark in the world. And she is so lovely, and in the very depths of her, deliciously sweet.
All the same, although they knew quite well what those two boys felt for them, and their own charms had been proved to be nearly irresistible over and over again, if they could only have guessed what had happened to me, neither Audrey nor Doris would have been quite easy in their minds as I descended the stairs with my most stately air—which was not saying much, for all the while I was longing to dance right down them—to welcome the approaching callers.
Directly I was in the drawing-room something tickled me again, so that I burst out laughing, and had to put up my hand to hide my blushes. What could it be that was about to happen? And at that moment there came a rat-tat-tat at the hall-door, and, presently, Jane was ushering in the visitors.
Mr Purchasecame first, with Mr Carter close on his heels. I stood about the centre of the room, as prim as you please, just wondering. Each of them had some flowers in his hand, Mr Purchase red roses, and Mr Carter pink. Somehow those young men scarcely ever came to the house without bringing roses. No matter what the season, you might be almost positive that they would have, at any rate, half-a-dozen rosebuds. In their time Doris and Audrey must have had enough flowers to make a good-sized haystack. No one ever brings me any.
They came into the room with a sort of look of expectation on their faces. When they perceived me they gave a look round, and when they saw I was alone their expression changed entirely. It was comical. A friendly, free and easy smile took its place.
“Hullo, Norah!” exclaimed Mr Purchase. “Nobody here?”
It was not a very civil way of greeting one; but I knew that it was not intended to bear quite the construction which might be put on it. Both boys had a way of addressing me as Norah, especially when I was alone with them, though they always dignify the others with the prefix “Miss.” I observed that most men, when they condescended to notice me at all, were more than a trifle unceremonious in their fashion of speech. Often I did not altogether like it. It was not pleasant to hear a man speak to your sister as if she were a duchess, and then to you as if you were a mixture of a cousin and a housemaid. But somehow from these two I did not mind it so much as from others. It was, perhaps, because they always meant to be friendly, and were never actually rude.
However, I suppose that just then I was feeling a little superior, so I put my nose up in the air, and was nasty.
“I am sorry that there is no one here—at least, no one of the slightest consequence.”
I fancy that both my words and my manner took them both aback. I believe that Mr Purchase nearly started.
“I say, it isn’t fair to trip up a chap like that. I’m sure——”
Of what he was sure I shall probably never know, because when he had got as far as that, for the first time he really looked at me. When he did he did not exactly start. But his expression changed quite as suddenly as it had done before, and in a more surprising manner. I never saw such a look upon a person’s face. And not the least curious part of it was that I was conscious that a precisely similar change had taken place in Mr Carter’s countenance.
They are neither of them bad-looking, only Mr Carter is brown, and Mr Purchase black; and I am inclined to think that a dark, intellectual face mirrors its owner’s emotions in an almost uncanny degree, although, when I began to grasp the details of Mr Carter’s physiognomy, I was not sure that your brown-haired people are very far behind. The amazement and delight which had all at once come into Mr Carter’s blue eyes was positively bewildering. He was a little behind his friend, and I suspect him of having had no desire to come to the front while I was the only person there, yet, all in an instant he had passed him, and planted himself in front of me.
“Miss Norah, here are some flowers.”
He held out the pink roses with an air which set me all of a flutter.
“I see there are. You always bring such pretty roses. Audrey is very lucky.”
“They are for you.”
“For me?”
Before he could answer, Mr Purchase was at his side, with his flowers extended.
“May I hope, Miss Norah, that you will do me the honour to accept mine. They are not so pretty, perhaps, as others, and are far from being worthy your acceptance, yet I hope that, of your kindness, you will not refuse.”
I had never had such a speech addressed to me in all my life by anyone; and now that it should come from Jack Purchase, of all people in the world. Small wonder that for the moment the only thing I was fit for was to gasp. I looked from one to the other like a sort of gaping idiot, and I certainly had abundant excuse for looking nothing better. There, within six inches of me on one side was Basil Carter, holding out the pink roses which, I was convinced, he had brought for Audrey; and within five-and-a-half inches of me on the other side was Mr Purchase, protruding, in a most suggestive style, the red roses I was perfectly sure he had brought for Doris.
“It isn’t fair of you to laugh at me,” I managed to get out at last.
“Laugh!” cried Mr Carter, with an air of the most innocent surprise. “How laugh? I hope you do not think that I am laughing at you? I should not dare.”
Should not dare! That was awfully good, considering how he had laughed at me times without number, as he knew as well as I did.
“I don’t know what you call it then, pretending to offer me those flowers.”
“Pretending! Miss Norah, I beg you will not call it pretence, when it is my earnest hope that you will receive them from my hands.”
“You know perfectly well that you brought them for Audrey.”
Before he could speak Mr Purchase spoke for him.
“My dear Basil, Miss Norah is quite correct; you yourself confided to me that they were designed for Miss Audrey. If, however, Miss Norah, you will deign to accept these red roses they will have reached their proper destination.”
“It isn’t fair of you, Mr Purchase; as if I didn’t know that they were meant for Doris.”
This time it was Mr Carter who interposed.
“That certainly is the case, my dear Jack. You are yourself aware that at your request I this morning ordered some red roses for Miss Doris O’Brady, and that these are they.”
“A man is at liberty to change his mind.”
“Under certain circumstances.”
“A fact of which I avail myself to beg your acceptance of these roses, Miss Norah.”
“I would entreat Miss Norah to extend her condescension to these poor buds of mine.”
“My dear Basil, you are merely imitative.”
“The imitation comes from you. It was I who first besought Miss Norah to take pity on my poor roses.”
“Really, Basil, you must excuse me, but you force me to point out once more—as Miss Norah has done already—that you brought those flowers for Miss Audrey. It’s no use pretending that you didn’t.”
“I pretend nothing; let me advise you also to avoid pretence. Is there any valid reason why we should not join in requesting Miss Norah’s acceptance of both our little nosegays?”
“Not a bad idea, if Miss Norah will only so far honour us.”
“Not if I know it; I haven’t quite lost my senses, even if you have.”
They seemed startled, even hurt. Mr Purchase, in particular, shivered almost as if I had struck him.
“Do you think that I wish to get into trouble by accepting other people’s property?”
“You scarcely state the case correctly, Miss Norah, if you will forgive my saying so. Up to the present moment the nosegays are our property—ours.”
“Then, so far as I am concerned, they will continue to remain your property—and, in any case, I should decline to accept what was originally intended for another.”
“Then all that remains for me is to throw my poor flowers out of the window.”
“The fireplace is good enough for mine.”
Off strode Mr Purchase towards the window and Mr Carter towards the fireplace. I stopped them.
“How can you be so ridiculous?”
“It is to avoid being made ridiculous that I propose to deposit them in the gutter. If you will not deign to overlook their too obvious unworthiness, then let them suffer the extremity of shame, and be the sharers of my humiliation.”
“I want nothing which you despise, so here go my rosebuds into the grate.”
Off they strode again; again I stopped them.
“Rather than that you should behave in that foolish and wicked way—treating those lovely flowers so cruelly—I will take both your nosegays. Though, mind you, if you don’t understand, I do—my doing so is the height of absurdity.”
Before I had finished speaking both of them came rushing at me, and there was I standing with Doris’ red roses in my right hand and Audrey’s pink in my left. I scarcely knew whether to laugh or cry, the situation was so surprising. What those two girls would say when they appeared upon the scene—as I momentarily expected that they would do—I did not even dare to think. And those two boys allowed me no chance to collect my thoughts, and try to see my way out of the muddle into which they were getting me. They kept on chattering, one against the other, and making the muddle worse with every word they uttered.
Mr Purchase began, speaking with an absurdly cock-a-doodle air, as if I had done him the greatest possible favour by consenting to hold Doris’ flowers for a moment or so, for that was really as far as I intended my acquiescence to go.
“Now, Miss Norah, that you have made me supremely happy by accepting my now rich roses——”
“And mine,” interposed Mr Carter.
“And yours—really, we are not likely to forget it, my dear Basil. Would you allow me to speak a few words without interruption? I should thank you so much if you would. This morning, Miss Norah, I took a box for this evening’s performance at the Gaiety Theatre——”
Again there came an interruption from Mr Carter.
“When you say that you took a box I presume you mean that you went through the mechanical operation of having it booked in your name. I paid for half of it.”
“My dear Basil, once more you are interrupting me. You appear to be incapable of allowing me to conclude a sentence. If you only would, you would find that I should explain everything to your most perfect satisfaction. Miss Norah, as Basil puts it, we took a box, and I shall be only too delighted if you will share my half of it.”
“I hope, Miss Norah, that you will share mine.”
“Basil, you are really trying. I invite Miss Norah, and before she has an opportunity of saying Yes or No, you cap my invitation with one of your own.”
“I presume, my dear fellow, that I am at liberty to invite whom I please. It was only owing to the accident of your having the glibbest tongue that my invitation did not come first.”
“Come, Basil, you are behaving like a schoolboy. I tell you what we’ll do—I’ll purchase your share of the box.”
“I decline to sell.”
“Then I will get another for myself—I imagine that another is to be had—and that I trust, Miss Norah, you will do me the honour of sharing with me.”
“I hope, Miss Norah, that you will not be so cruel. I beg that you will honour mine.”
They were beginning to look at each other in a way which made me almost apprehensive. The trouble was, that I rather wanted to go to the Gaiety. I hardly ever get a chance of going to a theatre; the others are always going. A piece was there just then to which all the world was crowding, and, for once in a way, I was more than willing to go with the crowd. That made the invitation rather tempting. But, under the circumstances, I was hardly goose enough to own it. Instead I endeavoured to induce them to conduct themselves like reasonable beings, which, until then, I had always supposed they were.
“Why are you two behaving this afternoon in such an excessively ridiculous manner? First you ask me to make two shares of myself in one box, and then to divide myself between two boxes. I don’t quite see how you can reasonably expect me to do either. I am not a divisible quantity.”
They both began at me again.
“You entirely misunderstand me, Miss Norah. So far from wishing you to divide yourself, I am piteously anxious that you should only honour my box.”
“Since Jack talks of taking another box, so far from dividing yourself—which the powers forbid!—all you have to do is to share with me the whole of mine.”
I held up the two nosegays—to calm them, if I could.
“One moment—if you’ll be so very kind. I should like you two to offer some at least plausible explanation of the extraordinary fashion in which you are treating me this afternoon. And, in the first place, I would call your attention to two or three simple questions. Have you ever hinted at giving me even the shadow of a shade of a flower? You know very well that no such idea has ever entered your heads. Why, then, do you all at once insist on thrusting on me the roses which you brought for Audrey and Doris, for whom you have been in the habit of bringing bushels of flowers? Have either of you ever even dimly suggested taking me to a theatre? You are aware that no such notion has ever entered your wildest dreams. Why, then, are you almost quarrelling in your apparent endeavours to compel me to occupy a box which you know as well as I do was intended for my two sisters? I happen to be cognisant of the fact that you as good as promised to take them to the Gaiety, and I have little doubt that you have caused them to anticipate the fulfilment of your promise this very evening. Can you for one moment suppose that I shall consent to take the places which they are expecting to fill? I should be sorry to be forced to think that you are not the sort of persons I had taken you to be. I have not a lofty opinion of the generality of men, for reasons; but I had believed you to be a little above the average.”
Instead of showing the least sign of being ashamed of themselves, they commenced to accuse each other in the most brazen manner. Mr Carter commenced.
“What you say, Miss Norah, is correct—as it always is. You know, Jack, that only this morning you told me that you were going to ask Miss Doris to share your half of the box; it was for that especial purpose you took it.”
“Did you not give me an assurance that you proposed to ask Miss Audrey to go with you?”
“My dear Jack, you informed me as far back as yesterday that you had as good as invited Miss Doris to accompany you, and that she had practically consented.”
“My memory is not at fault, my good fellow. I perfectly well remember that three days ago you remarked to me that you had mentioned the Gaiety Theatre to Miss Audrey; that she had expressed a wish to go there, and that, to all intents and purposes, you had undertaken to take her. After that you will yourself admit that, in common decency, there is nothing more to be said.”
“Come, Jack, I don’t want to chop phrases with you. You know I hate that kind of thing.”
“Not more than I do.”
“Then, if that’s the case, I’ll make a proposition, the perfect fairness of which must commend it to you. Let me have five minutes’ private and uninterrupted conversation with Miss Norah—I am convinced, Miss Norah, that in less time than that I shall succeed in making clear to you a good deal that at present seems dark!—and after that you can have ten minutes’ talk all to yourself.”
“I accept your proposition—with one proviso; that you let me have the first five minutes; then, afterwards, you can have twenty.”
“What kind of a way to treat a friend do you call this, Jack? You persist in taking the words out of my mouth, and adopting them as your own.”
“Basil, I must beg of you that you will not talk nonsense.”
“Nonsense! Really, Jack, that’s good, as coming from you! I talk nonsense! I don’t wish to enter into argument—least of all with you; but this is too much.”
“Listen to me!”
Considering that Mr Carter’s face was so very close to Mr Purchase’s, and that he was not speaking in the gentlest tone of voice, one could hardly see how he could help but listen. Their demeanour was marked by so much—I will call it, eagerness—that I was seriously beginning to inquire of myself if the temperature of the room was not getting a trifle warm. What was the exciting cause I was at a loss to determine; yet it did seem incredible that such lifelong friends should wrangle about nothing. If the cause of the heat was me—which seemed more incredible still—I could only declare that I was conscious of no sane reason why it should be.
I was almost on the point of inquiring if either of them suffered from intermittent attacks of softening of the brain, when the door opened, and in came Audrey and Doris. I sincerely hoped that they had been long enough in dressing. They might find that they had been just a trifle too long.
I couldnot but feel how nice they looked. Not for the first time, by any means, it was a comfort to think that they were my sisters. It is all very well to inveigh against the tremendous time a woman takes in dressing—and I am quite willing to admit that, over and over again, the girls have as nearly as possible driven me mad!—but if she wants to look her best, she has to. It is just those little delicate touches which require care and thought, and cannot be hurried over, which complete the picture. After one is completely dressed, one can often advantageously spend another quarter-of-an-hour or twenty minutes in artistic tittivation; and sometimes the result is worth it.
When I began to take in the details of Audrey and Doris, I realised that it had been worth it in their case. They were just exquisite; a delight to the eye, a refreshment to the senses; perfect pictures, of a kind I never could be. I was laughingly conscious of the absurdity of my posing as a rival to them. My impulse was to hurry to them, presenting the two nosegays, explaining that I had been merely acting as custodian until they came. I fully expected that there would be an instant end to those two men’s preposterous behaviour, so far as I was concerned, taking it for granted that they would promptly rush back to their allegiance, leaving me with the recollection of the lop-sided joke we three had had together.
However, to my amazement, and almost to my horror, nothing of the kind took place. Instead, Mr Purchase and Mr Carter continued their nonsensical, half-quarrelsome argument, totally ignoring Audrey and Doris, who remained a few paces inside the door, a growing suggestion of astonishment upon their faces. Presently Audrey spoke.
“I hope that we have not kept you waiting. How are you, Mr Carter?”
Mr Carter turned, nodded, and addressed her from where he stood. Cold shivers went up and down my back. He had never treated me quite so free-and-easily as that.
“Oh, thank you, Miss Audrey. I’m going strong, thank you. I hope you are, too.”
Without another word, he resumed his squabble with his friend.
The two girls looked at each other. Then Doris spoke.
“Good afternoon, Mr Purchase. I hope that you have been pleasantly engaged, and have not missed me.”
Mr Purchase’s answer must have been distinctly unexpected. He just nodded, as Basil Carter had done, and observed, in the most offhanded manner:
“Not at all, Miss Doris—not in the very least. We couldn’t have been better employed, thank you very much.”
He returned to Mr Carter, placing the forefinger of his right hand on the palm of his left.
“The point is this, I have now ceded to you my share of the box, leaving you perfect freedom to carry out your original plan, as of course you will do.”
“Nothing of the kind. That’s not the point, here is the point in a nutshell.”
At it they went, in the old delightful way. The two girls had seated themselves on a settee which was between the windows. They looked sweet, but a remark which Doris made to me suggested that that was not exactly how they were feeling.
“What are you doing with those flowers, Norah? You look silly with a bunch in each hand. Somehow flowers and you never do go well together, they look incongruous.”
The assault was so gratuitous that it ruffled my plumes. I was just on the point of handing them the flowers, with a word of explanation to smooth things out; because those two boys had been abominably rude, and they were not accustomed to rudeness from men. All experiences of that kind had come my way. The fact of the sensation being an entirely novel one scarcely made it more agreeable, especially since they had every reason to suppose that the pair were head over ears in love with them. My inclination was towards sympathy—true sisterly sympathy—because I had been treated badly myself, and I knew what it felt like. But when Doris spoke to me like that, sympathetic feelings retreated into the background. I sank down on the ottoman; put first one nosegay to my nose, and then the other; and smiled a little.
“Mr Carter and Mr Purchase have brought me these lovely roses. So sweet of them, really!”
I was conscious that the girls cast a curious, and even startled glance in my direction. Doris’ voice was a little sharp.
“Do you mean to say that those roses were given you by Mr Purchase?”
“And Mr Carter. They would insist upon my not refusing. Wasn’t it nice of them?”
As I glanced towards Doris, with my very sweetest smile, she looked what I call scratchy. Audrey addressed Basil Carter.
“So, Mr Carter, you have been giving Norah roses?”
“Yes, yes; poor ones, unworthy the recipient. Had I known the honour which was in store for them I would have procured better.”
“That is very kind of you. They look very like the roses you have sometimes given me.”
“They are the same—yes—exactly.”
The implication his words suggested,—that while the roses were not good enough for me they were for Audrey,—possibly escaped his attention. I doubt if it did hers. She looked up at him with notes of interrogation in her eyes, as if she were asking what he meant. He added, as if by an afterthought:
“By the way, Miss Audrey, there’s a matter on which I should like to ask your advice. I have a box for the Gaiety to-night.”
“You told me that you meant to get one.”
Her words seemed to take him slightly aback.
“Yes; I have some recollection of the kind. I believe I did.”
“Did you have much difficulty?”
“No, no; none to speak of.”
Doris questioned Mr Purchase.
“And haven’t you a share in Mr Carter’s box, or has he it all to himself?”
“He has it all to himself. I had half, but I have relinquished it.”
Doris raised her eyebrows.
“You have relinquished it?”
“You see, he proposes to ask Miss Audrey to join him, and you.”
“And me? Mr Carter proposes to ask me?”
Doris’ eyebrows went a little higher. Mr Purchase hurried on, as if he deemed hurry advisable.
“So I hope to be able to get another box for myself, as I am extremely anxious to ask Miss Norah to share it with me.”
“You are anxious—to ask Norah to share it with you?”
Doris’ face was a study. I could have laughed out loud, although, even while I sat, I was shivering in my shoes. His audacity was beyond anything—at least I thought so, until Mr Carter tried his hand.
“Excuse me, Miss Audrey, but that is not a correct statement of the case. It is you, Miss Doris, that Jack proposes to ask, in the hope, Miss Audrey, that you will join them. I, on the other hand, have already asked Miss Norah to favour my box with the honour of her presence.”
Mr Purchase burst out almost before Mr Carter had finished.
“Basil, how can you say such things? Really, you are beyond anything. You are perfectly well aware that the original invitation to Miss Norah came from me. Now, is that not the fact? Yes or no? Answer me.”
“Don’t be silly, Jack; I invited Miss Norah.”
“After I had done so.”
“Pooh! a question of a moment’s superior glibness.”
Audrey stood up.
“Is this a little comedy which has been arranged between you two.”
“That, Miss Audrey, is precisely the question I have put to Jack. I certainly have had no hand in it.”
“But it seems to me you have. You will excuse my putting it to you bluntly, Mr Carter; but did I not understand you to say that if you succeeded in getting a box for the Gaiety you would offer me a seat in it?”
Basil Carter seeming momentarily tongue-tied, his friend answered for him.
“Of course he did, Miss Audrey; he told me so himself. He was full of his anticipations of enjoyment in your society.”
Doris put her question to Mr Purchase.
“And were you not good enough to hint at my finding room in it with you? I rather fancied that you made some proposition of the kind, or, was it only fancy?”
It was Mr Carter’s turn to reply.
“Not at all! not in the least! I assure you, Miss Doris, that there is not a grain of fancy about it. Jack informed me, with his own lips, that he had made an arrangement of the kind with you, and expressed his gratification at having done so; and it was with a view of carrying out that arrangement that the box was procured. About that there cannot be the faintest shadow of a doubt.”
There was an instant’s pause. Neither of the men was looking exactly comfortable. I was wondering what excuse I could find to get outside the room, feeling incapable of marching out without one. Doris was lying back in a corner of the settee, picking at the folds in her dress, and smiling apparently at her own thoughts. While Audrey was standing close to Mr Carter, regarding him with something like a look of puzzlement in her beautiful eyes.
“Then are we to understand that the arrangement still holds good?”
Mr Carter shifted from one foot to the other.
“The arrangement, Miss Audrey?”
“As to the box. Am I to be your guest in it, as you promised?”
There was a tone in Audrey’s voice which I had never heard in it before—almost of appeal. I knew that she was observing his face with growing surprise, wondering at his obvious constraint. He was generally the readiest of men; and, with all his passionate devotion to her, never at a loss to express, in the most graceful terms, his eagerness to meet her smallest wishes. This blundering creature was entirely new to her. Something very near to pity came into her face as she continued to regard him.
“What is the matter with you, Mr Carter? You scarcely seem to be yourself this afternoon.”
Again a second’s pause. Then he lifted his head and looked at her.
“I am not myself, Miss Audrey, not in the sense that you have known me.”
He turned and looked towards me. As he did so, he came and stood close to where I was sitting.
“I must beg you to allow me to withdraw from the arrangement which existed between us, so far as it referred to me. I believe that Miss Norah but seldom attends a theatrical performance. She has never attended one with me. If she will grant me the felicity of accompanying her to one to-night, she will confer on me an obligation of which I shall ever continue conscious.”
There was silence after that. I was tingling from head to foot. I almost felt that I should like to box his ears. I have little doubt that Audrey would not have been indisposed to box both his and mine. A look which was akin to terror came into her eyes; she went white, as if something had frightened her. Doris laughed, not nicely, or naturally either.
“So, Mr Purchase, since Mr Carter throws us over, and what he says is quite correct, poor Norah seldom does attend a theatre—so few people care to attend one with her—Audrey and I will have to depend on you; you will have to find seats for both of us.”
The moment she had spoken I knew that Mr Purchase was going to make himself as objectionable as his friend had done, and I believe that Doris half suspected it too. There is a sting in that tongue of hers which is always ready to strike at someone the instant she even imagines that something unpleasant is going to happen to her. He drew himself up with that superior air which I have noticed that some men do cultivate when they know that they are about to behave badly.
“I trust, Miss Doris, that an erroneous interpretation will not be placed upon my words; but you must permit me to point out that I have already asked Miss Norah to share my box.”
Doris looked up at him with a sweetly acid smile which I should have thought would almost have made him tremble. No man in this world had ever thrown her over before, of that I am convinced. In matters of that sort, hitherto, all the bad conduct had come from her.
“Yet it would be quite easy to place an erroneous interpretation upon your words and your behaviour too, would it not, Mr Purchase, since you have already offered a seat in your box to me?”
“Not in set terms, Miss Doris.”
“No? I don’t quite know what you mean by set terms. On certain points you appear to have ideas of your own. One is thankful to be able to think that they are your own. Are we to take it that Norah proposes to divide herself into halves, and to share both your boxes?”
“Certainly not, Miss Doris. At present Mr Purchase hasn’t even got a box to share.”
This, of course, was Mr Carter.
“But I soon shall have. Miss Norah, I need hardly say, will occupy my box only.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, Jack. Before you invite a lady to share your box, I should make sure of having a box to which to invite her. I doubt if you’ll get one. My impression is that the house is sold right out.”
“I think not. I fancy that I know where to get a box if I want one badly. Is it impossible to induce you to see what a peculiar position you are taking up, Basil? Is it necessary to once more point out to you that the original invitation to Miss Norah came from me, and that in that matter you are really merely an interloper?”
“What rubbish that is, Jack.”
Audrey interposed, deftly:
“There does seem to be a good deal of rubbish about, doesn’t there? Supposing we take its existence for granted. My dear Norah, you must let me congratulate you on the flattering eagerness with which these gentlemen desire your presence in their two boxes. It is rather an unusual experience for you, is it not? And all the pleasanter on that account. What pretty roses these are; they are just like some which Mr Carter has occasionally given me.”
Seating herself by my side Audrey took the pink roses from between my fingers. Mr Purchase struck what I can only describe as an attitude.
“The position which Carter has taken up justifies me in giving you my personal assurance that those roses were intended for you, Miss Audrey.”
Mr Carter gave him back as good as he sent; I do not care if that is a vulgar way of putting it, it is a correct one.
“And were not those red roses bought by you for Miss Doris, Purchase? You know they were.”
Audrey went sweetly on.
“You are lucky, Norah. You not only get our roses, but our seats in boxes too. What a popular child you are.”
Doris’ voice came from the couch.
“What I want to know is—since it appears that you do not propose to divide yourself into two equal halves—which of these extraordinary persons do you propose to favour with your company? They themselves don’t seem to know, perhaps you do.”
I was red as a boiled beetroot, and smarting all over, and I expect my answers showed it.
“I have not said that I would favour anybody yet. I don’t want other people’s flowers, or other people’s seats in boxes either.”
“Miss Norah, I entreat you——”
“Miss Norah, I beseech you——”
Just as those two men came rushing at me, and began to overwhelm me with another flood of words, the door was opened again, and in came Walter Hammond.
Walter Hammondis a truly remarkable person to associate with Eveleen. She is rather short, even for a girl, while he is a perfect lamp-post of a man—one of those long, lean persons who seem all bones. As he fancies himself horsey, and will persist in dressing the part, and wearing the tightest clothes, his extreme slimness is still more conspicuous. He is one of those creatures who, when they are in a room, seem to be all over the place at once. When he is sitting down he never seems to know what to do with his legs, they really are tremendously long; if he stretched them out at full length under an ordinary dining-table, I should not be surprised if his toes peeped out the other side; and when he stands up he is equally at a loss what use to make of his hands and arms. He speaks in a rapid, jerky sort of way—in fact, he is jerky altogether. When anyone addresses him, he not only twists his body round with one jerk, and his head with another, and puts his eyeglass in with one jerk, and out with a second, but he jerks at his moustache, first with his right hand, and then with his left, in a fashion which a slightly nervous person, who is not used to him, must find not a little disconcerting. But I believe he is harmless, though I don’t think he is as wise as he might be. He appears to have the whole of the “Turf Guide,” or whatever you call the thing, at his finger ends; and, if you will let him, will talk about horses until you begin to pray for the hour when motor-cars will have made them as extinct as the dodo.
His manner of entering the room was, on that occasion, characteristic. He was groping about for his eyeglass, which, as usual, eluded search between the buttons of his waistcoat, and was carrying his hat, and gloves, and stick, and a good-sized parcel, with an evident want of certainty as to the hand they ought to be in, which it gave one the fidgets to observe.
Audrey greeted him with a degree of warmth which suggested that she regarded his appearance as a welcome interlude. I know I did. I should have regarded the advent of anyone or anything as a welcome interlude just then, I believe even mad dogs; though, as I have never encountered a mad dog, and never wish to, perhaps I had better not be too sure.
“Oh, Mr Hammond, is that you? How delightful! We want somebody to amuse us, we are so dull. Eveleen will be charmed; she will be down in a moment.”
“Needn’t ask how you are, Miss Audrey; you’re always fit. And Miss Doris too; can’t make out how you manage.”
Doris spoke.
“We don’t manage. We have our sufferings like other folk—sometimes very unexpected ones they are. What have you in that great parcel? It does seem to be in your way; won’t you leave it in the hall?”
“Gloves! gloves! couldn’t possibly leave it in the hall. It’s a little bet I lost to Miss Eveleen over Rocketter. The Brimstone filly was giving him four pounds, it seemed to me that at the weights it was a cert—dead snip. Rocketter won the Horndean Plate, the Scratchem Cup, the Slingsbury Stakes, with the weights against him. Appeared to me down the Lingfield straight, with such a handicap, there was only one horse in it. I was wrong. Told Jim Smiff rode a ripping race—hung on to Rocketter’s tail—caught him at the distance—nosed him at the post. So Miss Eveleen wins her gloves; sure, it gives me the greatest pleasure to pay them.”
I am not an expert in racing slang, so, if there is anything wrong in the way Mr Hammond’s observations are reported I am not to blame. I only pretend to give a rudimentary impression of the general style of his conversation. It was an extraordinary thing that when Eveleen bet with him she nearly always won. Either he was careful to arrange it so, or else he knew less than he supposed, and she more. Anyhow, somehow, her horse was nearly always in front of his. A remark which Doris made seemed to convey a hint which he might or might not have considered flattering.
“It must be nice to bet with you, Mr Hammond. It ensures one having a constant gratuitous supply of little necessaries.”
“Awfully good of you to say so, Miss Doris—really. Always delighted to lose to a lady—especially when I’ve had a good run for my money—yes. Tremendous rush there seems to be on the Gaiety. Had deuce’s own business to get two stalls.”
“For to-night?”
“Yes. Miss Eveleen said she’d like to see the show—so been worrying round—yes—had to worry too; but I got ’em.”
“Eveleen is fortunate. I also should like to see the show.”
“Very kind of you to say so—jolly flattering to the theatre people—they ought to go up one.”
He had been fumbling, at intervals, for his eyeglass. Now, having dropped his hat, stick, and gloves, and only retaining his clutch on his parcel, he at last succeeded in jerking his glass into a stationary position in front of his eye. He turned towards me. As he did so he beamed all over, stood up, and advanced towards me with what he possibly intended for a seraphic smile, but which did not strike me in that light at all.
“’Pon my word, Miss Norah, fancy you sitting there all the time and my not noticing you—only fancy. How very strange! How are you? I needn’t ask; you always are so fit; how do you manage? I never saw you looking fitter than you are looking just now—does one’s eyesight good to look at you. Cannot understand how I came to overlook you—so singular.”
The idea of that man talking to me like that—after the way he had treated me—put me all on end, as I let him see.
“It is not at all singular. On the contrary, you have always treated me in exactly the same manner. I have sat in the same room with you for hours and hours, and you have paid no more attention to me than if I was an unnecessary piece of furniture. I doubt if you have ever spoken twenty consecutive words to me in your life.”
The wretch was not at all abashed. That afternoon everybody seemed to be incapable of shame—particularly those who ought to have been most keenly alive to it. It is a disagreeable world. Talk about brazen-faced, impudent deceitfulness! I believe that all men are capable of anything; I am convinced they are.
That Hammond creature went blundering on as calmly and easily as if I had not said what ought to have made him writhe.
“Can only assure you that if I haven’t spoken twenty consecutive words to you, I’ll make up for it now—only like to have the chance. Feel I could talk to you for ever—sure I could. Like gloves? Sure to. All girls like gloves—get through lots of them. Here’s a box full; find them rather a decent sort; hope you’ll do me the honour of wearing them.”
He held out to me the parcel of gloves which he had just been announcing, in the presence of us all, that he had bought to pay the debt which he had lost to Eveleen. That did freeze me. I sat up as straight as a beanpole.
“I don’t understand you, Mr Hammond.”
But I did not succeed in freezing him. He indulged in an affable smile, which made him seem all teeth and mouth.
“Quite simple. Hope you’ll permit me to have the pleasure of presenting you with a box of gloves; you’ll find them rippers, got them from a really decent fellow; makes specially for me—sixes.”
“I take sevens.”
“Do you? Glad to hear it. Like a girl to have a good-sized hand. Hate your little namby things, better suited to a doll than to the end of a woman’s arm.” A nice observation to make, considering that both Audrey and Doris were present, and that they are notorious for their tiny hands. But Mr Hammond went unconcernedly on. “If you want a more sensible size you can easily change them, or I will for you. I’ve got a largish hand myself.”
He had. He held out in front of me, with an air of simpering satisfaction, the very largest hand I had ever seen. I wondered what acreage of ground a hand like that might represent. But I did not quite say so.
“I understood you to say that those gloves were to settle a bet which you had lost to Eveleen.”
“That’s all right. You take these—I’ll soon get her some others—don’t you worry about Miss Eveleen.”
“I would rather not take them, thank you.”
“Perhaps you’re right; may as well get a decent size straight away—a larger box—better quality. Got two stalls for the Gaiety to-night; hope you’ll do me the pleasure of occupying one.”
“Do I understand that you are offering me Eveleen’s stall?”
“Much rather you came, if it’s all the same to you. Awfully jolly if you would.”
“I would rather not come, thank you, Mr Hammond.”
Basil Carter came forward. I was really glad of his interference, though I would rather he had been a little more sensible.
“Miss Norah will certainly not come with you, Hammond. And, in order that you may not annoy her with your importunities, perhaps it would be as well that I should tell you at once that to-night, at the Gaiety Theatre, Miss Norah will share my box.”
At once Mr Purchase contradicted him.
“Do you wish to quarrel with me, Basil? Because, if not, I must ask you to refrain from persisting in such statements. Already I have borne them nearly as long as I can. Permit me to inform you, Hammond, that it is my box which will be honoured by Miss Norah’s presence.”
“You haven’t the faintest ground for such an assertion. To begin with, you haven’t a box.”
“I shall have one. And I have this ground, Basil, that the original invitation to Miss Norah came from me.”
“Fiddle-dee-dee!”
Mr Carter snapped his fingers; and they were at it again. Mr Hammond took advantage of their wrangling to press what he appeared to have the audacity to regard as his claims.
“As these gentlemen don’t seem to be able to agree as to whose guest you are going to be, Miss Norah, I vote that you settle the question by becoming mine. It would be splendid fun! First rate! Good stalls—bang in the middle of the second row—better than a box—it would be awfully sporting of you, don’t you know. Say you’ll come! Yes! Do! Be the jolly good sort you look, Miss Norah.”
Since the moment Mr Hammond had planted himself at my side, and commenced to conduct himself in such a peculiar manner, both Audrey and Doris had been speechless. Possibly they felt that the singularity of the general proceedings went beyond the capacity of words. But when that Hammond man—who, although a friend of Eveleen’s, was, to all intents and purposes, a stranger to me—called me “a jolly good sort” to my very face, Audrey burst out laughing, as though the joke had gone past bearing.
“What is the matter with you all?” she cried. “Is this a conspiracy between you three, or have you suddenly gone mad? What is it in Norah that has made her, all at once, such an irresistible object of attention?”
While she was still speaking Eveleen came in. She addressed herself to her.
“So, Eveleen, here you are at last; and it’s quite time you were here. Perhaps you will be able to supply the key to the riddle. Mr Carter and Mr Purchase have given Norah our roses and our seats at the theatre; and now Mr Hammond is endeavouring to induce her to accept your gloves and your stall. If there is a rational explanation of these gentlemen’s behaviour, do, dear, lose no time in finding it.”
Eveleen came forward with a smile, and that little alert air which seems to suggest that there must be quicksilver in her veins.
“What’s the joke? Don’t keep me out of it. How do, Walter?” Their acquaintance had got to the Christian-name stage. Eveleen is a little familiar with her young men; though she encourages them to behave only with the strictest decorum. “You’re looking rather chippy; have you been having too many skittles since I saw you?”
She can be slangy; particularly when she thinks that sort of thing is sympathetic. I fancy she endeavours to adapt the style of her conversation to her company. I am sure that when she has been talking to a parson her language has seemed to reek of the odour of sanctity.
I think she expected him to spring to his feet at sight of her, and burst into a fit of jerky enthusiasm. If she did she was disappointed. He just raised himself an inch or two, and, in an extremely perfunctory fashion, extended to her the extreme tips of his fingers.
“Feeling as fit as a fiddler. Sorry you don’t think I look it.” He turned to me. “Don’t you think I’m looking pretty fit, Miss Norah?”
A slight shade of surprise flitted across her features, as it had done across Doris’ face, and Audrey’s.
“Have you brought me my gloves?”
“Did bring them—rather wanted Miss Norah to have them—seems she takes a decent size—none of your little dollie flippers; so as they’ll fit you, you may as well have them. Here you are. Now we’re straight.”
He thrust the parcel into her hands; she taking it with the expression of surprise growing on her countenance.
“And have you got the stall you promised me?”
He inserted his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat, and began to shake himself in the manner which recalled a dog which has just come out of the water. Only he did it in such a very jerky way that one almost expected to hear his joints all cracking.
“Got a stall—had dreadful bother to get one—seems as if everyone wants to go to the place at the same time. If you don’t mind—and it don’t make any difference to you—’pon my word don’t see why it should—had rather Miss Norah went with me.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I say that unless it upsets you in any way—and I don’t see how it can—sure to find a chap who’ll be only too glad to place a stall at your disposal—lots of chaps about—I’d rather Miss Norah went with me—much rather—really; in fact I’ve asked her.”
She looked at him in a way which I should have thought would have made even such a hardened sinner, as he seemed to be, wince. But he failed to turn a hair.
“Still, I don’t quite understand. Do you mean, Walter, that you have offered my stall to Norah—to my sister Norah?”
“Yes—that’s it—exactly what I do mean. It’s clear enough, don’t you know. Don’t see where the difficulty comes in, ’pon my word. Only I don’t quite see why you should call ityourstall, really! I paid for it.”
“You paid for it? I see. And did you offer my gloves—these gloves, to Norah also?”
“That’s all right. I wanted her to have them; but as she has a really decent sort of hand, they’re miles too small for her, so as I know they’ll be all right for you, you may as well have them. Don’t you worry about that a little bit.”
She looked about her with an air of bewilderment as if seeking an explanation from someone, somewhere. Her face had quite altered during the few moments she had been in the room. Even her voice had changed, it seemed to have grown husky. I knew that she was really fond of Mr Hammond. He had been in the habit of prostrating himself in the dust at her feet. It must have been a dreadful wrench to have been spoken to by him like that.
“I suppose that there is a joke somewhere; but I’m so dull that I don’t see where. Norah, has Mr Hammond really done as he says? What have you been doing?”
She favoured me with an accusatory glance, as if I had been guilty of the blackest crimes. Audrey came to my rescue.
“To do her justice, so far as I have seen, Norah has been doing nothing. Norah has been sitting mumchance; scarcely saying boo! to a goose, as if she were on prickles. The men appear to have done all the doing—unless they have been indulging in an elaborate practical joke, at her expense, and ours, which they have already carried too far to be in the best of taste. It may be funny, in its way, which is not a pretty one.”
Eveleen was continuing to glare at me, as if she would have liked her eyes to have scorched my face.
“Are you going with Mr Hammond?”
Mr Carter took upon himself to answer.
“No, Miss Eveleen; Miss Norah is not going with Mr Hammond. Miss Norah is going with me.”
Eveleen looked up at him.
“With you?”
Before he could reply, Mr Purchase interposed:
“Again adventuring, Basil, upon forbidden ground, and, in so doing, conveying a totally wrong impression. Miss Eveleen, Miss Norah will be my guest.”
“Jack, do you wish to tempt me to lose my temper?”
“My dear Basil, let me beg you to remember.”
Mr Hammond reseated himself at my side.
“Since these two chaps do nothing but call each other names!”—they had not called each other a single name up to then; it was only that Mr Hammond has his own way of expressing himself—“supposing we fix it quietly between ourselves. As they can’t hit it off who you’re to go with, don’t you go with either of them—you go with me. That’ll suit me to a T!—down to the ground, Miss Norah! We shan’t quarrel; you can bet your hat on that, and your boots on top of it. We’ll have the best time, Miss Norah, if you’ll take my word for it, that anyone ever did have yet. I’ll do you a treat, on my honour! And if you’ll only say yes, you’ll come, you’ll make me pretty nearly as happy as if I’d won the Derby on my very own horse—you can lay your money on it all the while.”
Mr Carter touched him on the shoulder.
“Surely, Hammond, it cannot be necessary to again ask you to refrain from troubling Miss Norah, who, this evening, will be my guest!”
“But that’s just the point, my dear chap! Will she? Purchase says not.”
“I do say not. And that for the sufficient reason that she will be mine. And that is also a reason, Hammond, why you should not continue your persecution of Miss Norah.”
“There you are—one says one thing, t’other says t’other. What I want to know is, who’s who? which is which? what’s what? Straight tip!—fight it out between yourselves. Leave Miss Norah and I to fix up things between ourselves! There’s a friendly hint for you!”
“Hammond, is it possible that you intend to be impertinent?”
“My dear boy, there isn’t a grain of impertinence in the whole of my constitution, honest Injun! All I ask is—talk sense.”
“The sense of the matter is that Miss Norah will be my guest.”
“Jack, that’s utter nonsense!”
“There you are! there you are! Where are you?”
Eveleen spoke, her words coming from her lips like drops of vitriol.
“Don’t you think, Norah, that you had better favour all three of these gentlemen with your delightful company? It would be so nice—for them, and for you—and it would save further complications.” She turned to Audrey and Doris. “Has it not occurred to you two girls that we are rather in the way?”
Both Audrey and Doris burst out laughing. I do not know what at. There did not seem to be much merriment in their mirth. While they were still making those somewhat discordant sounds, Major Paul Tibbet entered the room.