Leonard Merrick

“ He thought of taking them in to the hotel to tea, but her companion's toilette had been very hasty.
The fly was as fragrant as a flower show when they drove away. She buried her fair face in the blossoms he had given to her. It's permissible, but it may stir the man's imagination. It stirred Conrad's; he had rarely wanted a kiss from a woman so much. In the scented dusk, as their gaze met, her eyes were luminous—like stars.
The fly rattled into Corporation Road, and he wondered whether she was going to ask him if he would 'come in.' The fly stopped. ”

“ On the necks of some there are flowers that have cost as much as a tripper's holiday; a diamond in an ear is worth more than the price of a tripper's home. And Maggie from Dalston, with three tired children clinging to her ten-and-sixpenny skirt, gazes across that slender rail, and thinks. And her thoughts might be unpleasant to hear.
A really extraordinary thing was that no one but Conrad seemed aware that the railing bisected two worlds and a half. As for Conrad his reflections engrossed him so much that he quite forgot to attend to Mrs. Adaile. ”

“ Conrad slept sound, a glance assured her of it. Again she ventured. An instant her gaze dwelt upon him, still with that smile half mirthful and half melancholy on her face. She nodded, wide-eyed—and on the tips of her toes crept out unheard, unseen.
When Conrad woke, a servant was admitting the sunshine through the window; his coffee steamed by his side. As he sat up—and almost before memory thudded in him—his view met the front page of "Le Marquis de Priola" pinned to the bed-curtain. He rolled towards it haggardly. On it was written:—
"Dreamer! Good-bye. There is no way back to Rouen." ”

“ Londoners boasted that everything the world yielded was to be bought in London, and it was true—even to dignities and reputations.
"Well, I am forced to admit that I don't know what women go to the moors for," said Bletchworth. "You don't take the sport seriously, and therefore you are out of place. What do you say, Mr. Warrener?"
"Well, I can hardly say anything," owned Conrad; "I don't go to the moors."
"But if you did, you wouldn't prefer a grouse to a woman, I'm sure?" asked Lady Bletchworth.
"A man does not go to the moors to talk to women," insisted her husband. ”

“ While we were in Sweetbay, I think you said?"
"Yes," he answered musingly, "when the daughter who is married was a little girl, Mrs. Page. To think that she's a woman and a wife! Why, Miss Mary and I were like brother and sister then—how wonderful it would be to meet her now!"
"My daughter's name is Ursula," she demurred. She blinked fast. There was another pause.
"'Ur—Ursula?'" stammered Conrad, with the precursory sinking of an awful fear. "Miss Mary not the eldest? ... But surely at Rose Villa she was the eldest at home—during that summer, at least?" ”

“ Oh, but, my dear Lady Darlington, you mustn't give way, you must be firm with yourself. Think, just think, what an example you'd be setting if you took to it again! In our position we have the Country to consider. The middle classes say 'What's good enough for the Aristocracy must be good enough for us.' We have to consider our influence on those in a humbler sphere."
"I'm not going to take to it again," said Rosalind. "How can I? Besides, I don't want so much to act—I've no ambition except to be jolly—it's the life I ache for. I'm dull, dull, dull! I want to be among the people I remember. ”

“ Conrad observed that all the family men seemed inclined to loll where they were, and that all the unaccompanied men made sprightly departures. In the concert-room he found her again, but he didn't find his opportunity. To be sure, he had hardly expected one there. Still he felt rather hipped the last thing at night as he sat among a crowd, and the popping of champagne corks, in a buffet where the casks were utilised as seats, and the ladies' toilettes were as gorgeous—and as modest—as the ladies' toilettes in the hotel. ”

“ At the foot of the steps Tattie shook hands with him and went indoors, and he remained a minute saying 'good night' to Rosalind. The other girl might well have heard all they said, but the minute had charm to him because the other girl had left them. It implied something. And underneath, to both these shuttlecocks of temperament, there was another charm, not defined yet—to be savoured in the first moments of solitude—the charm of recapturing a mood of years ago. At a doorstep, late: "You look tired?" "Oh, it's nothing." A pause. "I shall see you to-morrow?" "Yes, come in to tea." ”

“ A man begins to be in love much sooner than a woman, but he finishes much sooner too."
"Well, that's why marriage was invented," said Conrad. "The man brings the fervour, and the woman brings the faithfulness. You can't combine better qualities."
"Yes, and what about his fervour afterwards? He wants to go and be in love all over again. Haven't I seen? In this profession, travelling about, a girl often meets a good fellow; I don't say he's often rich—the ones who mean well are generally hard up. ”

“ When she arrived it was eight o'clock, and a bitter evening. The scramble for luggage kept her shivering on the platform for ten minutes, and then a fly bumped her through the shuttered town. It was the hour of local dissipation; on one side of the favourite thoroughfare the blades of Blithepoint paraded jauntily, crying "Pip, pip" to stolid-faced young women on the other, who took no notice of them. Lady Darlington, reckless for sensations, envied these "roysterers" who could feel devilish gay so innocently. ”

“ Quisby. "Pick up your cues, Miss Vavasour, for Gawd's sake!"
"I beg your pardon, I didn't hear it, Mr. Quisby," she stammered.
"Well, then, listen, my girl! What do you suppose we're here for? 'Bosom of the air'—caper down centre. Lightly—lightly! Great Scot! not like that. You come down like a sack o' coals."
"The girl has no experience," remarked Miss Jinman in a deep undertone to all about her.
"Go back," shouted Mr. Quisby. "'Bosom of the air,' now again! What have you to say as you run down?" ”

“ Even a fate that showered disappointments as freely as if they were confetti must draw the line somewhere.
He was among the tourists, and the luggage-thieves at Charing Cross by ten o'clock next morning. When he reached Ostend it was a fine afternoon, and the town was baking. By comparison London had been pleasant, so a multitude of Londoners had flocked to Ostend. With trepidation he beheld the hotel that sheltered her—what if he were unable to obtain a room in it? But no—so far, so good. Fate was, perhaps, napping in the heat—a room was to be had. ”

“ You might have married Delicia, who has millions—I am a very poor girl.'"
"You're a very poor actress too," said Mr. Omee under his breath.
"'Why do I love yer, sweetheart?'" mumbled the prompter. "'Your question reminds me of what the apple-blossom said to the moon.'"
"Band cue!" shouted Mr. Quisby. "Have you got that, there in the orchestra?—'The Apple-blossom and the Moon,' song! Go on, Mr.—er—Song over. Get on with the lines."
"Excuse me!" exclaimed the Tenor, reappearing. "That's a cue for the limelight. I don't think it has been marked; I didn't get it at the dress rehearsal." ”

“ It is true that soon afterwards Conrad went to Monte Carlo, but details would not interest you in the least. Be gracious to me; yield to the book another finger-tip—I feel it slipping. Say, "Poor drivel as it is, a man has written it in the hope of pleasing me." For he has indeed. On many a fine morning I have plodded when I would rather have sunned myself where the band played; on many an evening I have wound my feet round the legs of the table and budged not, when the next room and a new novel—paid for and unopened—wooed me as with a siren song. ”

“ I remember"—his trained gaze took in the name, which he had forgotten, on the card—"I remember, Mr. Warrener, when I used to pray to be a poet."
"Do you think prayers are ever answered?" inquired Conrad. "In my life I have sent up many prayers, and always with the attempt to persuade myself that some former prayer had been fulfilled. But I knew—I knew in my heart none ever had been. Things that I have wanted have come to me, but—I say it with all reverence—at the wrong time, as the means to buy unlimited toffee comes to a man when he has outgrown his taste for sweets." ”

“ No city goes to bed more worldly, and wakes up looking more innocent. At six o'clock next day, when they began to beat carpets, and Conrad flung the windows wide, some of the happiness of the wakened capital's simplicity was breathed into his heart. And his fervour, and his purse, overcame the first impediment. ”

“ The warm, perfumed air was agreeable after the fog, and Rosalind among the azaleas was divine. (There are few keener pleasures than taking out a nice woman, and spending money on her; and it is unnecessary that one should go out fond of the woman—it's so easy to get fond of her in the process.) "Oh no, really!" she protested—and she meant it, for Miss Lascelles was already laden—"No, none for me, really!"
"Just these," pleaded Conrad; "they're so pretty—it's a shame to leave them behind." ”

“ A man can have no greater blessing than a good wife—excepting none," he concluded mentally. "Shall I be allowed to see them before I go?"
"The children? Would you like to? Dudley is out, but the others are just going to have tea in the next room. My husband isn't back from the city yet, of course. Oh, the city! What a hold it does get on you men. As if it really mattered whether you made an extra thousand pounds one month or not!" A trayful of crockery rattled, and the footsteps of the little servant thudded through the passage.
"You're quite right," said Conrad. ”

“ I couldn't menace him with a revolver."
"Men are so lazy!" she smiled.
"You may smile," said Conrad reprovingly, "but it's very serious for us. We are all out of an engagement."
"Yes," she agreed. "And goodness only knows when you'll get one again!"
"That's sheer spite—you're jealous of my talent. Miss Lascelles, tell her I can't be out of an engagement long."
"With all his experience?" cried Tattie. "His notices as 'Buttercup' were immense!"
"Poor Miss Jinman!" sighed Rosalind; "I'm sorry for that old woman." She nodded at Conrad. "You should see her this morning!" ”

“ For scrutinising the company Conrad had scarcely time to glance at the menu. The doorway was as dazzling as the Plage had been: a cinematograph of toilettes, a succession of audacities—only clusters of diamonds seemed to keep some of the bodices up. Man formed a shifting background to an exhibition of jewels, a pageant of skirts and breasts. ”

“ There was a little sleet blowing when the audience straggled homeward. The lights of the Belle Vue Hotel were not put out yet, and carelessly, Miss Jinman observed that the people inside must be warmer than she was. Rosalind took the hint. It is only in the lowest ranks of the theatrical profession that the ladies refresh themselves in bars; a second-rate provincial actress would wither the person who invited her; but Miss Jinman and Miss Lascelles had adapted their manners to their company, and it was a very humble Company indeed. So they went into the Lounge, and sat down. ”

“ He lolled there discreetly, making civil responses—and gradually he realised that Flossie Coburg's son was not wholly to be blamed for the tedium; he recognised that there was a dulness of his own spirit. While he countenanced the garrulity of a fool, his thoughts were with scenes of twenty years before, and sadly the man strove to revive in his heart the idolatry and illusions of the boy. Oh, for the enchantment of the summer when he had called her "Mrs. Adaile!" ... If he could only keep remembering it was the same woman! ”

“ However, at last the orchestra finished, and they all got up. A leisurely crowd was flocking to the exit, and—perhaps it was the crowd, perhaps it was Lady Bletchworth—Conrad and Mrs. Adaile were separated from the others for satisfactory seconds.
"Won't you forgive me?" he whispered.
Even a crowd has merits—her hand rested on his arm an instant.
"It must be fate," he said; "I always offend you just when we're going to part. Do you remember?"
She nodded. "I remember." Her glance was very pretty in the moonshine. ”

“ At a quarter to seven Miss Lascelles had to hurry to the theatre again.
Rosalind went later. The wind had risen, and on the pier she had to fight against it. The lamps streaked a heaving sea. The little wooden theatre was fairly full, and a few Christmas trippers in the balcony were comporting themselves with less decorum than prevails in Blithepoint as a rule. Knowing what she knew of affairs behind the curtain, Rosalind heard the whistles with misgiving. She feared that if the whistlers found the entertainment meagre, they were likely to create entertainment for themselves. ”