A contemporary, hearing of the reported engagement of two well-known
persons in the world of Music and the Drama, interviewed the lady and
obtained from her the following synopsis of the crucial moment:--
"I was lunching with my costumier this afternoon, and among the people
there was M---- After luncheon he asked me to be his wife. I said
'Yes,' and the marriage takes place next week. We've been friends
since I was twelve years old, and his music is the finest I have ever
heard."
Spurred to emulation by this striking example of journalistic
enterprise, correspondents in all parts of the world are composing
piquant descriptions of similar contracts. We offer two examples:--
1. Miss Fanny V. Adie consented to give the correspondent of _The
Poppleton Observer_ a few particulars of her engagement to Captain
Scorcher, O.B.E.:--
"I was sitting on my ambulance having a biscuit and tin of bully with
Alphonse (my French poodle), when suddenly there was a terrific crash.
It appears, as I learnt later, that Captain Scorcher was motoring
to Lille to purchase whisky and other medical comforts, when the
steering-gear of his 60-H.P. Rolls-Ford came away in his hands, with
the result that he nose-dived into the rear of my ambulance at forty
miles per hour. When I came to my senses my head was in the ditch
and the rest of me in mid-air. Captain Scorcher, crawling out of the
wreckage, said, 'Do you reverse?' and then asked me to be his wife. I
said 'Yes,' meaning I reversed, and the marriage takes place as
soon as we arrive at the same hospital. We have been more or less
bosom-friends for five minutes, and I think his moustache is the
sweetest thing I ever met."
2. Asked if she could confirm her reported engagement to Lord Bertie
Brasshatte, Miss Fifi Thistledowne--who dances "The Camisole Squeeze"
so daintily in "_Really, Girls!_" (the Mausoleum revue)--recounted
to the correspondent of _The Jazzers' Gazette_ the following romantic
story:--
"I was having oysters and stout with my chiropodist at his place in
Stepney, and among the people there was Lord Bertie Brasshatte, who
is a martyr to cold feet, contracted during his visit to Boulogne in
1918. (How can we ever repay these brave men for the hardships they
have suffered?) Well, after the tenth oyster he passed me two slips
of buff paper, pinned together. On the first was written, 'For
information and necessary action, please;' and on the other, 'Are you
engaged tomorrow?' I said, 'No,' and the marriage takes place as soon
as my agent can make arrangements with the illustrated papers. We've
been friends ever since Lord Bertie left a lovely diamond tiara in my
waste-paper basket, and I think his suppers are the finest I have ever
tasted."
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