“But I expect you’ll never come to the provinces again, Polly,” said Johnny Dubosque sadly. “I said to Horace it was all up with us as soon as you got to the Lane. But you’ll be turning up the perfession altogether now.”
Mary said it might be so, and Johnny Dubosque sighed deeply, and informed the Toff in a burst of confidence that her place could never be filled. And the Toff—for all that the Twin Brethren were not a little discomposed by hearing one who was not a fellow alumnus speak of the wife as Polly—apologized so nicely to the Perfession for having done what it had done, that Johnny Dubosque, who had a generous heart, felt not a little inclined to forgive him, and Horace Allwright somewhat waived the question of his dignity.
“Come across to the Magnificent, old chap, and ’ave a drink,” said Horace Allwright in a sudden and overwhelming burst of hospitality.
The Toff accepted the invitation, and for that act of grace, my lords and gentlemen, honor is due to the Twin Brethren, who as you do not require to be told, would have disbursed current coin of the realm to shirk this obvious duty. But it would never do to make an enemy of a friend of Mary’s. Therefore the Twin Brethren allowed themselves to be led across the road about as cheerfully as a lamb is led to the slaughter; and the grandees of the place stared very hard at the entrance of These Theatrical People; and the Twin Brethren devoutly hoped that no stray member of the Button Club was lying concealed among the ferns.
Modest libations were ordered by Mr. Horace Allwright in a rather loud manner, with a lemon squash for Mary, although this was mere natural politeness on her part.
“We shall not see her equal as Cinderella, not in our time, my lord,” said Mr. Horace Allwright in a very audible aside to the Toff, in order to keep in touch with the public.
“Of course you will, Horace, and many a better one,” said the Uncrowned Queen of Blackhampton, having with her ready tact and her quick observation detected the plight of the unhappy Twin Brethren who were blenching a little under their tan.
Not so far off were a pair of Contemporaries, out of sight, perchance, yet by no means out of hearing.
“Why, if it isn’t that damned fool Shel, with his mésalliance!”
“No—yes—my God!”