She peered out of the window, and then leant her head through the
opening. "There's a policeman at the corner," she said, "I shall call
him if you don't go away!"
"Very well," he replied. "They can't put a man in gaol for loving a
woman!"
"They can put him in gaol for annoying her!"
"I'm not annoying you. How can I annoy you when I'm in love with you?
No, don't interrupt me. You haven't let me get a word out of my mouth
all night!" He could hear her laughing at him. "Are you codding me?" he
said.
"What?" she replied in a puzzled voice.
"Are you codding me?" he repeated. "Are you making fun of me?"
She leant out of the window as if she were trying to see him more
closely. "You really are funny," she said. "I was afraid of you ... you
stared so ... but I'm not afraid of you now. You're a funny little
fellow, but I do wish you'd go away!"
"Come down and talk to me, and I'll go home content!..."
"You're being silly again!"
"No, I'm not. I tell you, girl, I'm mad in love with you, and I'll sit
on your doorstep all night 'til you agree to go out with me!"
"The policeman would lock you up if you were to do that," she replied.
"I'm not in love with you ... I don't even like you ... I think you're
a horrid man, staring at people the way you do ... and I won't 'go out
with you,' as you call it. I'm not a servant girl!..."
"What does it matter to me what sort of a girl you are, if I'm in love
with you. You must like me ... you can't help it!..."
"Oh, can't I?"
"No. I never heard tell yet of a man loving a woman the way I love you,
and her not to fall in love with him!"
"Don't talk so loudly, please," she said in a lowered tone. "People
will hear you, and there's someone coming down the street."
"I don't care!..."
"But I do. Now listen to me, Mr.... Mr.... I can't remember your name!"
"My name's MacDermott, but you can call me John."
"Thank you, Mr. MacDermott, but I don't wish to call you John. Now
listen to me. I think you're a very romantic young man!... No, please
let me finish one sentence! You're a very romantic young man, and I
daresay you think that all you've got to do is to tell the first girl
you meet that you're in love with her, and she'll say, 'Oh, thank you!'
and fall into your arms. Well you're wrong! You may think you're very
romantic, but I think you're just a tedious fool!..."
"A what?"
"A tedious fool. You've made me feel exceedingly uncomfortable more
than once. I had to stop going to that tea-shop because I couldn't eat
my food without your eyes staring at me all the time. Fortunately, the
work I was doing in the City was only a temporary job, and I got a
permanent post elsewhere and was able to move away from the City
altogether!..."
"But Eleanor!..."
"How dare you call me Eleanor!"
"Because I love you!" he said.
She seemed to be nonplussed by his reply. She did not speak for a few
moments. Then, altering her tone, she said, "Oh, well, I daresay you
think you do!"
"I don't think. I know. I'll not be content till I marry you. Now,
Eleanor, do you hear that?"
"I know nothing whatever about you!..."
"Come down to the doorstep and I'll tell you. Will you?"
"No, of course not!"
"Well, how can you blame me then if you won't listen to me when I offer
to tell you about myself. You know my name. John MacDermott. And I'm
Irish!..."
"Yes," she interrupted, "I'm making big allowances for that!"
"My family's the most respected family in Ballyards!..."
"Where's that?" she asked.
"Do you not know either? You're the second person I've met in London
didn't know that. It's in County Down. My mother lives there, and so
does my Uncle William. I've come here to write books!..."
"Are you an author?" she exclaimed with interest.
"I am," he said proudly. "I've written a novel and I'm writing a
play!... Come down and I'll tell you about them!"
"Oh, no, I can't. It's too late. And you must go home. Where do you
live?"
"At Brixton," he answered.
"That's miles from here. And you'll miss the last bus if you don't
hurry!..."
"I can walk. Come down, will you!"
"No. No, no. It's much too late," she said hurriedly. "And I can't stay
here talking to you any longer. Someone will make a complaint about me.
You'll get me into trouble!..."
"Well, will you meet me to-morrow somewhere? Wherever you like!"
"No!..."
"Ah, do!"
"No, I won't. Why should I?"
"Because I'm in love with you and want you to meet me."
"No!..."
"Then I'll sit here all night then. I'll let the peeler take me up, and
I'll tell the whole world I'm in love with you!"
"You're a beast. You're really a beast!"
"I'm not. I'm in love with you. That's all. Will you meet me the
morrow?"
"I don't know!..."
"Well, make up your mind then."
She remained silent for a few moments.
"Well?" he said.
"I don't see why I should meet you!..."
"Never mind about that. Just meet me!"
"Well ... perhaps ... only perhaps, mind you ... I don't promise
really ... I might meet you ... just for a minute or two!..."
"Where?"
"At the bookstall in Charing Cross station. Do you know it?"
"I'll soon find it. What time?"
"Five o'clock!"
"Right. I'll be there to the minute!..."
"Go home now. You've a long way to go, and I'm very tired!"
"All right, Eleanor. I wish you'd come down, though. Just for a wee
while!"
"I can't. Good-night!"
"Good-night, my dear. You've the loveliest eyes!..."
She closed the window, but he could see her standing behind the glass
looking at him.
He kissed his hand to her and then, when she had moved away, he walked
off.
"Good night, constable!" he said cheerily to the policeman at the
corner.
The policeman looked suspiciously at him.
"How do you get to Brixton from here?" John continued.
"First on the right, first on the left, first on the right again, and
you're in the Bayswater Road. Turn to the left and keep on until you
reach Marble Arch. You'll get a 'bus there, if you're lucky. If you're
too late, you'll have to walk it. Go down Park Lane and ask again. Make
for Victoria!"
"Thanks," said John.
He walked along the Bayswater Road, singing in his heart, and after a
while, finding that the street was almost empty, he began to sing
aloud. The roadway shone in the cold light thrown from the high
electric lamps, and there was a faint mist hanging about the trees in
Kensington Gardens. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was full of
friendly stars. All around him was beauty and light. The gleaming
roadway and the gleaming sky seemed to be illuminated in honour of his
triumphant love, for he did not doubt that his love was triumphant. The
night air was fresh and cool. It had none of the exhausted taste that
the air seems always to have in London during the day. It was new,
clean air, fresh from the sea or from the hills, and he took off his
hat so that his forehead might be fanned by it. He glanced about him as
if in every shadow he expected to see a friend. London no longer seemed
too large to love.
"I like this place," he said, waving his hat in the air.
A policeman told him of a very late 'bus that went down Whitehall and
would take him as far as Kensington Gate, and he hurried off to Charing
Cross and was lucky enough to catch the 'bus.
"How much?" he said to the conductor.
"Sixpence on this 'bus," the conductor replied.
John handed a shilling to him. "You can keep the change," he said.