IN THE SWIM
"Do you tango?" asked Miss Hopkins, as soon as we were comfortably seated. I know her name was Hopkins, because I had her down on my programme as Popkins, which seemed too good to be true; and, in order to give her a chance of reconsidering it, I had asked her if she was one of the Popkinses of Hampshire. It had then turned out that she was really one of the Hopkinses of Maida Vale.
"No," I said, "I don't." She was only the fifth person who had asked me, but then she was only my fifth partner.
"Oh, you ought to. You must be up-to-date, you know."
"I'm always a bit late with these things," I explained. "The waltz came to England in 1812, but I didn't really master it till 1904."
"I'm afraid if you wait as long as that before you master the tango it will be out."
"That's what I thought. By the time I learnt the tango, the bingo would be in. My idea was to learn the bingo in advance, so as to be ready for it. Think how you'll all envy me in 1917. Think how Society will flock to my Bingo Quick Lunches. I shall be the only man in London who bingoes properly. Of course, by 1918 you'll all be at it."
"Then we must have one together in 1918," smiled Miss Hopkins.
"In 1918," I pointed out coldly, "I shall be learning the pongo."