"Forgive me," he said perfunctorily. "I think the pantomime will have the desired effect on our friends yonder, and whether they know me or not they know they'll have a hot time to-morrow for playing the dickens with an amorous officer—the main thing is to get them to switch the light off us, isn't it?"
I thrilled. I had always wondered, as every girl born wonders, what it was like to feel a man's arm round you.
I liked it.
I liked the cool, rather insolent, devil-may-care voice.
I am always honest with myself, so I write these things quite honestly and frankly.
I love reading, but I have never thought of love or romance as being even remotely connected with me. I have always been very interested in engaged couples and newly married people, but I think it is rather squashing to be the plain daughter of a pretty mother and a father who can't afford to give you nice clothes. I mean, it doesn't give you much chance. Suddenly, when I felt those arms round me—very limp and casual, it is true—I would have given the world to have been attractive and had an attractive personality and attractive frocks. I have tried very, very hard to be nice and useful and kind in my life, because I know I could never have the more alluring virtues; but it has been very, very dull. I do think clothes matter, and hair-waving, especially when your hair is straight like mine; and I do understand the girl who, when she was asked, "Which would you rather be, beautiful or good?" answered, "I would like to be born beautiful and grow good." I feel she must have been a relation of mine.
The lights swished round.
"That," said the officer, "has done the trick, Miss Burbridge, and here we are at the boundary."
He removed his arms from me, and out of the darkness suddenly came my father's voice.
"I had no idea you were in the habit of taking my daughter for walks, Captain Cromer. Your mother sent me to search for you, Pam. I am awaiting an explanation."