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His Evening Out
by
“What’s doing? Nothing stuffy,” he added. “Is there an Exhibition anywhere–something in the open air?”
“You are forgetting Miss Clebb,” the lady reminded him.
“For two pins,” said Mr. Parable, “I would get up at the meeting and tell Miss Clebb what I really think about her.”
I suggested the Earl’s Court Exhibition, little thinking at the time what it was going to lead to; but the lady at first wouldn’t hear of it, and the party at the next table calling for their bill (they had asked for it once or twice before, when I came to think of it), I had to go across to them.
When I got back the argument had just concluded, and the lady was holding up her finger.
“On condition that we leave at half-past nine, and that you go straight to Caxton Hall,” she said.
“We’ll see about it,” said Mr. Parable, and offered me half a crown.
Tips being against the rules, I couldn’t take it. Besides, one of the jumpers had his eye on me. I explained to him, jocosely, that I was doing it for a bet. He was surprised when I handed him his hat, but, the lady whispering to him, he remembered himself in time.
As they went out together I heard Mr. Parable say to the lady:
“It’s funny what a shocking memory I have for names.”
To which the lady replied:
“You’ll think it funnier still to-morrow.” And then she laughed.
Mr. Horton thought he would know the lady again. He puts down her age at about twenty-six, describing her–to use his own piquant expression–as “a bit of all right.” She had brown eyes and a taking way with her.
* * *
Miss Ida Jenks, in charge of the Eastern Cigarette Kiosk at the Earl’s Court Exhibition, gives the following particulars:
From where I generally stand I can easily command a view of the interior of the Victoria Hall; that is, of course, to say when the doors are open, as on a warm night is usually the case.
On the evening of Thursday, the twenty-seventh, it was fairly well occupied, but not to any great extent. One couple attracted my attention by reason of the gentleman’s erratic steering. Had he been my partner I should have suggested a polka, the tango not being the sort of dance that can be picked up in an evening. What I mean to say is, that he struck me as being more willing than experienced. Some of the bumps she got would have made me cross; but we all have our fancies, and, so far as I could judge, they both appeared to be enjoying themselves. It was after the “Hitchy Koo” that they came outside.
The seat to the left of the door is popular by reason of its being partly screened by bushes, but by leaning forward a little it is quite possible for me to see what goes on there. They were the first couple out, having had a bad collision near the bandstand, so easily secured it. The gentleman was laughing.
There was something about him from the first that made me think I knew him, and when he took off his hat to wipe his head it came to me all of a sudden, he being the exact image of his effigy at Madame Tussaud’s, which, by a curious coincidence, I happened to have visited with a friend that very afternoon. The lady was what some people would call good-looking, and others mightn’t.
I was watching them, naturally a little interested. Mr. Parable, in helping the lady to adjust her cloak, drew her–it may have been by accident–towards him; and then it was that a florid gentleman with a short pipe in his mouth stepped forward and addressed the lady. He raised his hat and, remarking “Good evening,” added that he hoped she was “having a pleasant time.” His tone, I should explain, was sarcastic.