Carnival Part 26

Jenny, although she longed to be out of the theater, could not be quick that night. As she watched the other girls leave the dressing-room, she asked herself why she had wanted Irene to wait for her. If he were outside, Irene would spoil it all; for, together, they would giggle, and he would think what a shocking couple of girls he had fallen in with.

She wished now that Irene would become impatient and go, but the latter seemed perfectly willing to dawdle, though by now they were the only two inhabitants of the dressing-room.

"Oh, do move yourself!"

"Oh, I can't, Irene. Whoever made these unnatural stays?"

"We shall get locked in," said Irene.

But Jenny was dressed at last, and together they pa.s.sed out into the cool September night. He was there. Instinctively Jenny recognized the careless figure in opera hat and full black coat. She drew back and clutched her friend's wrist, aware of hot blushes that surely must flame visibly in the darkness.

"Who's he?" whispered Irene.

"Who's who?"

"The fellow by himself at the end of the court?"

"How ever on earth should I know? Do you think I'm a walking _Answers_?"

The two girls pa.s.sed him by. He hesitated; then, as if by an effort, raised his hat.

Irene giggled foolishly.

"How d'ye do, Tootoose?" said Jenny, self-possessed through his embarra.s.sment.

"I liked your dancing," he said simply.

"Did you? Who ca----?" She stopped. Somehow the formula was inadequate.

"Can't we go and have supper somewhere?" he asked.

"Just as _you_ like."

"Where shall we go?"

"It doesn't matter to me," said Jenny.

"Gatti's?"

"Um."

"But do you like Gatti's?" persisted the stranger.

"It's all right."

"We can all squash into a hansom, can't we?"

"Rather," said Jenny.

They rattled off to Gatti's, and were soon sitting on red velvet, rulers of gayety.

"What's your name, Claude?" inquired Jenny.

"Raymond," he said.

"Oo-er! What a soppy name!"

The young man hesitated. He looked for a moment deep into Jenny's eyes: perceived, it may be, her honesty, and said:

"Well, as a matter of fact, my real name is Maurice--Maurice Avery."

"Oh, and he wasn't going to tell us," cried Jenny, clapping her hands.

"We shall have to call him careful Willie."

"No, I say, really, do forgive me for being a silly a.s.s."

"Now he's being rude to himself."

Here a fat waiter interposed with a dish, and Avery had time to recover himself. Meanwhile, Jenny regarded him. She liked his fresh complexion and deep-blue eyes. She liked better still his weak, girlish mouth and white teeth. She liked best of all his manner, which was not too easy, although it carried some of the confidence of popularity.

"Whatever made you come on the first night? I think the ballet's rotten on the first night," said Jenny.

"I'm awfully glad I did. But, as a matter of fact, I had to. I'm a critic. I'm going to write a notice of the ballet for the _Point of View_."

Something in the intonation of this announcement would have warned anybody of the world that Avery's judgment had not long ago been demanded for the first time.

"A reporter?" asked Jenny.

"Well, a sort of reporter."

"You don't look much like a reporter. I knew a reporter once who was going to photograph me in a bathing-dress for _Fluffy Bits_. But his flat was too high up for this little girl."

Maurice Avery wished that Jenny were alone. He would in that case have attempted to explain the difference between a reporter and a dramatic critic. Under the circ.u.mstances, however, he felt that the subject should be dropped, and turned politely to Irene.

"You're not talking much."

"Ah, but I think the more."

The conversation became difficult, almost as difficult as the _macaroni au gratin_ which the three of them were eating. Maurice wished more than ever that Irene was out of the way. He possessed a great sense of justice which compelled him to be particularly polite to her, although his eyes were all for Jenny. The unsatisfactory meal evaporated in coffee, and presently they stood on the pavement.

"I say, I ought to drive you girls home," said Maurice. "But to-night I absolutely must get back and finish this notice in time to catch the three o'clock post. Couldn't we all three meet to-morrow?"

Inwardly he lamented the politeness which led him to include Irene in the suggested reunion.

"All right, Willie Brains," said Jenny.

"Where?"

"Oh, I don't know. Outside the Palace. Good night."