“Well, to a concert.”
“When?”
“When there is one. I don’t know. They won’t have one in this God-forsaken place until the autumn.”
“That’s a long time ahead.”
He spread his hands. “You see, I never have any luck. I just want you to promise.”
“Oh, I’ll promise,” Henrietta said.
“It will be the first time I’ve been anywhere with a girl,” he said. “I don’t get on.”
“Have you wanted to?”
He sighed. “Yes, but not much.” Her laughter, which was so pretty, startled him; it also delighted him with its music, and his sad eyes grew wider and more vague. He had an inspiration. “I’ll take you home now.”
“I’m not going home. I’ve promised to go to Sales Hall.”