Carnival Part 46

"Whitebait, sir, more than anything."

Castleton sighed; and Maurice, who had gone downstairs to rea.s.sure the household, came back trying to look as if waiting for breakfast on a January morning after dancing all night was one of the jolliest experiences attainable by humanity.

"Maurice," said Ronnie Walker, "we think your night was splendid. But we think your morning is rotten."

"Oh, Maurice, why didn't you let us go to bed?" Jenny grumbled.

"You can't really blame the hotel people," Maurice began.

"We don't," interrupted Cunningham severely. "We blame you."

"I also blame myself," said Ronnie, "for giving way to your mad schemes."

"You're right," Jenny put in. "I think we was all mad. What must they have thought of us--a party of loonies, I should say."

"I meant it to be very charming," Maurice urged in apology.

"Oh, well, it'll all come out in the wash, but I wish they'd bring in this unnatural breakfast."

The company sighed in unison, and, as if encouraged by such an utterance of breath, the wisp of smoke broke into a thin blue flame.

"Come, that's better," said Maurice, unduly encouraged. "The fire's burning up quite cheerfully."

This and the entrance of breakfast revived everybody, and when a genuine blaze crackled in the grate they thought Greenwich was not so bad after all; though Maurice could not persuade anybody to stand by the bleak windows flecked with raindrops and watch the big s.h.i.+ps going out on the ebb.

"But what shall we do?" Jenny demanded. "I can't go home after the milk.

I shall get into a most shocking row."

"You can explain matters," Cunningham suggested.

"Yes, I should say. Who'd believe we should be so mad as to rush off to Greenwich on a pouring morning for breakfast? No, I must say I slept with Ireen."

"Well, why don't you come back and go to bed at my place?" Irene suggested. "You can go home tea-time."

"All right. I will."

Maudie and Madge decided to copy the example of the other two, by going back together to Mrs. Wilson's house near the Elephant and Castle.

"Only we ought to change our clothes first," Jenny said. "What of it though? We've got cloaks."

"I shouldn't mind changing," said Castleton. "These claret-colored overalls of mine will inevitably attract the public vision."

"Rot!" said Maurice. "We can all drive down to the Elephant--although, by the way, we ought to stop at the Marquis of Granby and look at the Museum."

"To the deuce with all museums," cried Ronnie. "I want my bed."

"You are an unsporting lot," Maurice protested. "Then we'll stop at the 'Elephant,' and the girls can go home in two taxis and we'll go back in the others."

So it was arranged; and, having paid the bill and politely a.s.sented to the waiter's suggestion that they should come over in the summer-time to a whitebait dinner, they left behind them the Sloop Hotel, Greenwich.

On the way back to London, Maurice attempted to point out to Jenny the foolishness of her present style of living.

"All this fuss about whether you go home before or after the milk. I can't understand why you let yourself be a slave to a family. I really can't."

"But I'm not," said Jenny indignantly. "Only that doesn't say I'm going to live with you, if that's what you mean."

Somehow the wet and dreary morning gave a certain crudity of outline to the situation, destroying romantic enchantments and accentuating the plain and ugly facts.

"You'd be ever so much happier if you did."

"Oh, well, who cares?"

"I wish you wouldn't say that."

"Well, what an unnatural time to talk about where I'm going to live and what I'm going to do."

"It's extraordinary," said Maurice, "how much you're influenced by the unimportant little things of life. I'm as much in love with you now as I was last night when we were waltzing. You're not."

"I don't love anything now except bed."

"Yet I'm just as tired as you are."

"Who cares?"

"d.a.m.n it. Don't go on saying that. I can't think where you got hold of that infernal expression."

"You are in a nasty mood," said Jenny sullenly.

"So are you."

"Well, why did you drag me out all this way in the early morning?"

"I wanted you to enjoy yourself. I wanted to round off a glorious evening."

"I think a jolly good sleep rounds off a glorious evening, or anything else, best of all."

"I think you sleep too much," argued Maurice, who was so tired himself that he felt bound to contest futilely every point of the discussion.

"Well, I don't. That's where you and me don't agree."

"You're always sleeping."

"Well, if I like it, it needn't trouble you."

"Nothing troubles me," Maurice answered with much austerity. "Only I wish to goodness you'd behave reasonably. Look here, you're an artistic person. You earn your living by dancing. You don't want to take up with a lot of old women's notions of morality. If you reject an experience, you'll suffer for it. Chance only offers you Life--I mean Life only offers you Chance----" But it did not matter much what he meant, for by now Jenny was fast asleep.