"Another glass, please." The servant disappeared.
"I do hope you won't break this one. In what country is it that the
bridegroom breaks a glass in the marriage ceremonial? Oh, yes, I
remember. Fossy told me. Among the Jews. There's a lot in the profession.
Not that it's such a marrying profession. And to think I might have been
a regular bride! But I've lost you, my dear boy, hero of a hundred
hill-fights, I _know_ it--and the moment you've picked your little
bits of senses together, you'll know it, too. Alas, we shall never go
tiger-hunting together.
"'A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to thee.'"
"I don't say I won't keep my promise," he said sulkily.
"Your promise! Hoity toity! Upon my word! I'm no breach-of-promise
lady--Chops and tomato sauce indeed! I recognise that we could never
marry. There would always be that between us!"
Her fascination gripped him in proportion as she let him go.
"I don't know that I should mind if nobody really knows," he began.
"You! It's I that would mind. And I really know. Could I marry a man who
had told me smoking-room stories? No, Eileen is done with you. Good-by!"
"Good-by? No, I can't go. I can't face the emptiness. You've filled me
and fooled me with love all these weeks. Good God! Do you owe me
nothing?"
"I leave you something--Nelly O'Neill! Go and see her. Now you're off
with the old love. You mark what a prophetess I was. Nelly'll receive you
very differently. No cant of superiority. You'll be just a pair of jolly
good fellows. You'll sit up drinking whisky together and yarning
anecdotes. No uncomfortable pretences; no black bog posing as white
fire; no driven snow business, London snow nicely trodden, in. And
the tales of the world you tell me--how useful they'll come in for
stage-patter! Oh, we shall be happy enough! We can still pick up the
pieces!"
"Eileen! Eileen! you will drive me mad. What do you mean? You know I
could never have a wife on the Halls. It would ruin me in the clubs, it
would--"
"In the clubs! Ha! ha! ha! Every member of which would be delighted to
have tea with me! But who's proposing to you a wife on the Halls? You
said I owed you myself, and it's true, but you don't suppose I could
_marry_ a man I didn't respect? I told you we're not a marrying
profession. Come, let's kiss and be friends."
He drew back as in horror. "No, no, Eileen, I respect you too much for
that."
She looked at him long and curiously. "Yes, the sexes don't understand
each other. Well, good-by. I almost could marry you, after all. But I'm
too wise. Please go. I have a headache and it is quite possible I shall
scream. Good-by, dear. I was never more than a phantom to you--a boyish
memory, and a bad one at that. Don't you know you gave me a pair of black
eyes? Good-by: you'll marry a dear, sweet girl in white muslin who'll
never know. God bless you."