It is to this last-named place that Peace and his friend are about to pay a visit.
After leaving the “Tumblers” Mr. Kempshead, who was what is called a late bird, proposed that they should drop into the Argyll-rooms. Peace gave his assent to the proposition, and the two companions paid the entrance fee and entered the inner penetralia of that establishment.
They found the place thronged with persons of both sexes—the female, if anything, predominating. A few hired professionals were dancing mechanically and languidly to a very indifferent band.
People did not go to the Argyll to dance; they went to see and be seen. It was a recognised meeting place—for ladies and gentlemen shall we say? Perhaps males and females would be the more correct term.
If any one went there for the entertainment they were sure to be miserably disappointed.
The same remark will apply with equal force to the Mabille in Paris, which is dull and depressing to the last degree.
Not so, however, with the Argyll in its halcyon days. There was always a certain amount of life about it, and albeit they were many of them “frail,” some of the most beautiful women in the world were wont to display themselves at this celebrated establishment.
Peace, who was always an admirer of the fair sex, was perfectly charmed with the array of beauty which met his gaze.
He and Kempshead strolled through the place, observing as they did so its most noticeable features.
“I never would have believed it unless I had seen it with my own eyes,” he exclaimed.