The girl bowed, smiled, and showed some sign of an intention to stop and talk. The man raised his hat, looked extremely solemn and unsociable, and passed on. It was enough. The girl understood that he did not wish to resume the ball-room acquaintanceship, and very probably guessed why. He did it beautifully.
The hat and the promenade.
Before leaving the subject of the promenade, I must clearly explain that the hat must be raised even in saluting a very familiar friend, if (a) that friend is accompanied by a lady, and (b) when one is oneself accompanied by a lady, even if she be only a mother or sister. It is one of the signs of caste that a man is equally polite to his relatives as he is to the relatives of others.
One’s duty to one’s own relatives.
We all know what to think of a man who omits small social duties where his wife is concerned. Even when he proves by paying them duly to other women that he is aware of what he ought to do, he is at once set down as ill-bred—a “cad,” in fact.
A case in point.
I once saw a Lord Mayor of London enter his carriage before his wife, who scrambled in after him as though well accustomed to do so. One does not expect the refinement of good manners from civic dignitaries, as a rule, but this little action told the spectators more about the man than they would ever have found out in the newspapers. They at once perceived that he was unversed in the ways of good society.
But some one may suggest that this may have been on some state occasion, when his mayoral dignity obliged him to precede his wife.
The lady first under every circumstance.
No. It was after a wedding. And besides, can any one fancy the Prince of Wales in any circumstances entering his carriage without having previously handed in the Princess, should she be his companion?