VI

"The Acadia Theater! So be it. They're all one to me."

Mavis had chosen this famous music hall because, as she explained,

Chirgwin was performing at it, and her aunt had always said that

Chirgwin was the most excruciatingly funny of all music-hall artists.

"So be it. Half a minute, though." Dale counting his money, dolefully

discovered that it had run very low indeed. "I begin to think we shall

have to cut down our treat a bit."

But Mavis swept away all difficulties. She had brought money--her very

own money--her little emergency hoard; and opening her handbag, and

tumbling inside it, she produced a five-pound note, and smilingly put

it on the dressing-table.

"Hulloa! There's more where that comes from." His quick ear had caught

the rustling sound inside the handbag. "There's other notes in there,

old lady;" and, laughing, he tried to snatch the bag from her. "How

much? Here's a miser, and no mistake."

"Never you mind how much your miser's got." Her lips were smiling, her

eyes shining, and with a happy laugh she sprang away from him. "Now,

no nonsense. Take me out, and make a fuss of me."

For a moment he stood still, admiring her. She was dressed in her very

best Sunday clothes, and, to his eye at least, she looked quite

entrancingly nice. Her straw hat was full of artificial roses that

any one might have sworn were real; her unbuttoned jacket disclosed

the delicate finery of a muslin blouse; her long skirt, held up so

gracefully by the unoccupied hand, was made of veritable silk. She

just looked tip-top--a picture--to the full as much a lady as the

young dames he had been lately observing; and yet, wonder of wonders,

she was his property.

"By Jupiter, I must have another hug--and then off we go."

"No," she said archly, and yet decidedly. "No more kisses till

bedtime. I'm all ready to show myself to company, and I don't wish to

be rumpled."

They rode like a gentleman and a lady in a hansom cab; they dined like

a duke and a duchess at the Criterion restaurant; and they were both

as happy and light-hearted as schoolboys on the first day of their

holidays. Like children they made silly little jokes which would have

been jokes to no one but themselves. He caused immoderate laughter in

her by assuming the airs of a man about town, by affecting a profound

knowledge of the French names for all the dishes on the table d'hote

menu, and by describing how offended he would now be if any one should

detect that he was not a regular London swell; and she, by whispered

criticism of a stout party at a distant table, sent such a convulsion

of mirth through him that he choked badly while drinking wine. He had

insisted on ordering the wine, and in making Mav take her share of it,

although she vowed that the unaccustomed stimulant would fly to her

head.

"Rot, old girl. You dip your beak in it--it's mostly froth and fizz,

and no more strength than the lager beer, as far as I can make out."

"How much does it cost?"

"Shan't tell. Yes, I will," and he roared with laughter, "since it's

you that's paying for it. Best part of seven shillings."

"Oh, Will, it's _wicked_!"

"Bosh! This is the time of our lives;" and he chaffed her again about

being a secret capitalist. "Blow the expense. Let the money fly. And,

Mav, I on'y borrow it. This is all my affair really."

"No, no. You'll spoil half my pleasure if you don't let me pay."

But his money or her money--what did it matter? They two were one,

reunited after a cruel, most bitterly cruel separation; her face was

flushed with joy more than with wine, and her love poured out of her

eyes like a stream of light.

They walked from the restaurant to Leicester Square, arm in arm, proud

and joyous, enjoying the lamplight and noise, not minding the airless

heat; but when they reached the entrance of the music hall--where he

had stood gaping, solitary and sad, a few nights ago--Mavis met with

disappointment.

"Oh," she said, "what a shame! They've changed the bill. Chirgwin's

name is gone. He was acting here Friday night."

"How d'you know that?"

She followed him into the vestibule, and he asked her again while they

waited in the crowd by the ticket office.

"I read it in the paper. Aunt and I were talking of him; and I--I had

the curiosity to look at the advertisements--not dreaming that I

should come so near seeing him."

"Never mind," cried Dale, in his jovial, far-carrying voice; "there'll

be a many as good as him."

"Hush," she whispered. "If you talk like that, they'll know we come

from the country;" and she squeezed his arm affectionately. "I don't

mind a bit, dear--but there's no one so clever as Chirgwin. Really

there isn't."

She at once forgot her trifling disappointment. Placed side by side in

extravagantly expensive seats of the stately circle, surrounded by

ladies and gentlemen in evening dress, they both gave themselves

wholly to the pleasure of this unparalleled treat. All the early items

of a long program astounded or charmed him; and her enjoyment was

enhanced by recognizing how completely he had thrown off the

narrowness or prejudice of village life. Listening to his laughter at

almost indecent jokes, his ejaculations of wonder when conjurers

showed their skill, his enthusiastic clappings after acrobats had

proved their strength, she understood that all his natural sternness

was temporarily relaxed; he would not allow himself to be disturbed by

any semi-religious notions of propriety or impropriety; he was just a

jolly comrade for an evening's sport.

"Brayvo! Brayvo! By Jupiter--wouldn't 'a' credited it without the

evidence of my own eyes." The gorgeous curtains had just descended

upon a narrow parlor, which a Japanese necromancer had literally

filled to overflowing with colored cardboard boxes produced from the

interior of one single top hat. "See! Watch 'em, Mav." Footmen were

coming in front of the curtains to remove the plethora of cardboard

boxes. "They're real boxes, Mav."

Sweet music, happy laughter, brilliant light--the evening glided

entrancingly, like a dream in which neither Greenwich nor any other

time is kept.

During the interval before the ballet he took her out of the circle,

strolled with her up and down the promenade, and gave her an American

drink in a refreshment saloon. It was appallingly hot, and they were

both longing to quench their thirst with something big and cold. A

magnificent waiter brought them bigness and coldness in tall tumblers

with straws, and they sat on a velvet divan and sucked rapturously.

Standing or seated at tables, there were young bloods with white

waistcoats and cigarettes, and young ladies with rich gowns and

made-up faces; through a gilded doorway one had a vista of the

thronged promenade; the air was hot, exhausted, pungent with tobacco

smoke; and amid the chatter of voices, the clink of glasses, the

rustle of petticoats, one could only just hear the great orchestra

playing chords of some fantastic march.

Suddenly Mavis felt a vaguely pleasant confusion of mind, as though

the icily cold liquid, as she slowly absorbed it through the straw,

was freezing her intelligence. She could not for a few moments

understand what Dale was whispering at her ear.

"Between you and me and the post, Mav"--And he told her that,

according to his opinion, all these women parading up and down were no

better than they ought to be. They were of course, socially, much

higher than the common women of the streets, but he considered them to

be, morally, on the same level: although they did not accost

strangers, they were all willing to scrape acquaintance with any one

who looked as if he had money in his pocket. "Yes, London's a bit of

an eye-opener, old girl." Then he laughed behind his hand, and said

that she was probably the only respectable woman and virtuous wife in

the whole of the theater.

Mavis, although trying to listen, answered at random.

"Will, I do believe there's spirits in this stuff--yes, and strong

spirits too."

"Oh, bosh. It's just a refresher. Mostly crushed ice, and a few drops

of sirup."

Mavis, however, was quite correct. At the bottom of the glass, and

below the light sirupy mixture, there lurked liqueurs of which the

potency was only rendered doubtful because of their low temperature.

The beginning of the long drink was absolutely delicious, so soothing

and so cooling; but at the end of it was as if one had filled one's

self with insidious quick-running flame.

Mavis put down her empty tumbler, and looked at it reproachfully.

"Will, it has made me come over all funny. My head's swimming."

When they got back to their seats and were watching the ballet, he too

felt the consequences of guileless straw-sucking; but with him the

after effects were entirely pleasurable. He felt invigorated,

peaceful, massively grand.

He sat placidly enjoying the beauty of the scene, the grace of the

dancers, the vibrations of the music. The stage was dark at first, and

one could merely make out that it pictured a wildly-imagined grove in

the land of dreams; then it grew brighter, and one saw preposterous

giant-flowers--foxgloves so big that when they opened there was a

human face in each quivering bell. And the flowers came out of the

earth and danced; children dressed up as birds, brown boys like

beetles, slim girls like butterflies, all came dancing, dancing; with

more light every moment, till the dazzle and the blaze seemed to drive

away the little people;--and then quite glorious forms appeared,

pirouetting, almost flying--pink-limbed houris, fairies, nymphs--"call

'em what you please--a fair knock-out."

"It makes me go round and round," whispered Mavis.

He sat grave and silent--just nodding his head in approval of all he

saw, not troubling to applaud any further, impassive as some Eastern

sultan for whom slaves and courtiers had made a mask.

Then gradually his mind seemed half to detach itself from the thraldom

of external objects. These novel sense impressions, pouring into him,

joined themselves to old memories, and, mingling, made up a fuller

stream of joy. He seemed to be able to think of five or six things at

once; but, as the undercurrent of every thought, there was the same

deep-flowing comfort, of which the source lay in his relief at the

escape from danger. Those fairies flashing about under the branches of

sham trees momentarily evoked the ancient haunting distress of his

youth, and out of this thought came the lofty conception of Mavis as

his guardian angel. How persistently the first of those fancies

lingered--after so many years! Bother the fairies or nymphs, or

whatever they were. Household angels are what a man wants to bring

him contentment; and keep him straight, day by day, and week by week.

Before the ballet was over, he became bored with it. Too long! Enough

is as good as a feast. They were singing now as well as dancing.

The massive, voluminously quiescent sensation induced by the liqueurs

had passed away, and in its place came increased weariness of the

spectacular entertainment. The light, and the music, and the

half-naked women, who still danced and pranced, were affecting his

nerves unpleasantly now. He looked away from the stage, and stared at

the audience. Behind him, as he knew, there were all those hussies

with painted faces offering themselves for hire. And wherever he

looked, he seemed to see evidences of amorous traffic. When you

examined it attentively, the entire audience seemed to resolve itself

into an endless repetition of the same small group of two persons of

two sexes, each soliciting the other's favor; a man and a woman

sitting close together, the couple, the factorial two--everywhere, all

round the circle, along the three visible rows of stalls, and again in

the private boxes. Those wealthy men in the boxes were unquestionably

accompanied by their mistresses and not by their wives or sisters.

Through the vibrating music and the super-heated atmosphere, on a

river of vivid light, they were all drifting fast toward the night of

love that each pair had arranged for itself.

And they too would have their night of love. He looked at his wife,

and felt his pulses stirred as much now as in the far-off days of

courtship--more, because then there was no experience of facts to

strengthen his imagination. He gently pressed her arm, and thrilled

at the mere contact. She was leaning back, fanning herself with her

program, and he observed the roundness and whiteness of her neck, the

flesh of her shoulder showing through the transparent sleeve of her

blouse, the moistness and warmth of her open lips.

Yet she had told him at Rodchurch Road Station that she was attractive

only to his eyes, and that she could never again arouse desire in

other men. What utter nonsense! She was simply adorable.