Farncombe.
Oh, Captain Jeyes——
Jeyes.
No, no; she wishes you to understand the exact nature of the friendship between her and me. I’m obeying instructions. Farncombe sits on the ottoman, nursing his hat and overcoat. Then Jeyes sits in the arm-chair by the centre table, first turning the chair so that it faces Farncombe. Farncombe, I was under thirty, and still a subaltern, when I made Miss Parradell’s acquaintance. Like most of my pals, I was spending my nights, whenever I could get away from Aldershot, in the stalls at the Pandora—much the same as you’ve been doing recently, and as a certain class of young man’ll go on doing as long as the Pandora, and similar shops, continue to flourish. Ha! How honoured we felt, we men, in those days, at knowing some of the Pandora girls, and having the privilege of supping ’em and standing ’em dinner on Sunday evenings! If they’d been royal princesses we couldn’t have been more elated. With a gesture. Don’t jump at conclusions. It generally ended there, or with our running into debt at a jeweller’s. We were young, they were beautiful—or we thought ’em so; but the majority of us weren’t vicious, any more than the majority of the girls were—though many of ’em were mighty calculating. It would have been better for us men if all the girls had been wicked; the glamour, the infatuation, the folly, would have been sooner over, and one of us at least would have had a different tale to tell.
Jeyes pauses, gazing at the floor, Farncombe moves impatiently on the ottoman and Lily seats herself upon the settee.
Lily.
Plaintively. Nicko—Nicko—I merely wanted you to——
Jeyes.
Rousing himself and speaking to Lily over his shoulder. Who was it introduced us?
Lily.