Malim smiled quietly, but said nothing.
She kissed Julian, and she kissed me.
“Now we’re all friends,” she said, sitting down.
“Better know each other’s names,” said Malim. “Kit, this is Mr. Cloyster. Mr. Cloyster, may I introduce you to my wife?”
CHAPTER 7
I MEET MR. THOMAS BLAKE
(James Orlebar Cloyster’s narrative continued)
Someone had told me that, the glory of Covent Garden Ball had departed. It may be so. Yet the floor, with its strange conglomeration of music-hall artists, callow university men, shady horse-dealers, and raucous military infants, had an atmosphere of more than meretricious gaiety. The close of an old year and the birth of a new one touch the toughest.
The band was working away with a strident brassiness which filled the room with noise. The women’s dresses were a shriek of colour. The vulgarity of the scene was so immense as to be almost admirable. It was certainly interesting.
Watching his opportunity, Julian presently drew me aside into the smoking-room.
“Malim,” he said, “has paid you a great compliment.”