"I think we ought to go to the Orient, Jenny."
"I don't care where we go," said Jenny.
"Well, let's."
"All right. I'll meet you Camden Town station to-morrow. Don't you be late."
"No fear."
"Oh, no, Mrs. Punctual, you're never late!" scoffed Jenny.
"Well, I won't be to-morrow."
On the following morning Jenny dressed herself up to impress the ballet-master of the Orient, and arrived in good time at Camden Town station. Irene was nowhere in sight. Jenny waited half an hour. People began to stare at the sprays of lilac in her large round hat. Really, they were looking at the blue facets of her eyes and her delicate, frowning eyebrows. But Jenny, feeling herself a-blush, thought it was the lilac, thought her placket was undone, thought there was a hole in her stocking, became thoroughly hot and self-conscious.
She waited another blushful quarter of an hour. Then, thinking that Irene must surely have mistaken the meeting-place, she called at the shop in Kentish Town where her father worked and asked him if he'd seen Irene.
"Irene Dale?" said Charlie.