DELYSIOUS DETAILS.
A contemporary, hearing of the reported engagement of two well-known persons in the world of Music and the Drama, interviewed the lady and obtained from her the following synopsis of the crucial moment:—
"I was lunching with my costumier this afternoon, and among the people there was M—— After luncheon he asked me to be his wife. I said 'Yes,' and the marriage takes place next week. We've been friends since I was twelve years old, and his music is the finest I have ever heard."
Spurred to emulation by this striking example of journalistic enterprise, correspondents in all parts of the world are composing piquant descriptions of similar contracts. We offer two examples:—
1. Miss Fanny V. Adie consented to give the correspondent of The Poppleton Observer a few particulars of her engagement to Captain Scorcher, O.B.E.:—
"I was sitting on my ambulance having a biscuit and tin of bully with Alphonse (my French poodle), when suddenly there was a terrific crash. It appears, as I learnt later, that Captain Scorcher was motoring to Lille to purchase whisky and other medical comforts, when the steering-gear of his 60-H.P. Rolls-Ford came away in his hands, with the result that he nose-dived into the rear of my ambulance at forty miles per hour. When I came to my senses my head was in the ditch and the rest of me in mid-air. Captain Scorcher, crawling out of the wreckage, said, 'Do you reverse?' and then asked me to be his wife. I said 'Yes,' meaning I reversed, and the marriage takes place as soon as we arrive at the same hospital. We have been more or less bosom-friends for five minutes, and I think his moustache is the sweetest thing I ever met."
2. Asked if she could confirm her reported engagement to Lord Bertie Brasshatte, Miss Fifi Thistledowne—who dances "The Camisole Squeeze" so daintily in "Really, Girls!" (the Mausoleum revue)—recounted to the correspondent of The Jazzers' Gazette the following romantic story:—
"I was having oysters and stout with my chiropodist at his place in Stepney, and among the people there was Lord Bertie Brasshatte, who is a martyr to cold feet, contracted during his visit to Boulogne in 1918. (How can we ever repay these brave men for the hardships they have suffered?) Well, after the tenth oyster he passed me two slips of buff paper, pinned together. On the first was written, 'For information and necessary action, please;' and on the other, 'Are you engaged tomorrow?' I said, 'No,' and the marriage takes place as soon as my agent can make arrangements with the illustrated papers. We've been friends ever since Lord Bertie left a lovely diamond tiara in my waste-paper basket, and I think his suppers are the finest I have ever tasted."