That was all he said. I do not think I ever heard a more musical voice in a man. With a graceful movement of his handsome head he handed me the fan. But he did not move. And, somehow, I did not seem to mind his continuing to stand there with his eyes looking into mine. But my escort did. The Major began to fuss.
“Now, are we going to that theatre or are we not? Because, if we are, we shall have to make haste if we want to get there before the piece is over.”
The procession continued towards the door, the men giving way to let us pass, following me with their eyes in a manner which was pronounced. I was conscious that the women also were following me with their eyes, in a manner which was equally pronounced, in an entirely different sense. I knew they were picking me to pieces, failing to see anything in me of any sort or kind, and disapproving of me most heartily. But I was also aware that the brown man was coming after us towards the door. As we were climbing into the omnibus he stood on the top of the steps, out in the open street, and watched us. When Mr Hammond told the coachman to drive to the Gaiety Theatre I felt sure he heard. He gave a little inclination of his head as we drove off which as good as said he did.
In the omnibus the atmosphere was not less charged with electricity than it had been before. Indeed, I should have said that it even more inclined to give off sparks. As soon as we had started, Mr Carter observed, with his very sweetest air:
“There seem to be a great many impertinent persons about to-night.”
I knew he had the brown man in his mind’s eye. He had glared at him throughout.
“One does meet impertinent persons sometimes. Occasionally one even goes out with them.”
He looked as if he could have said a good deal, but he managed to refrain. The others, apparently, were warned by his fate; they joined him in an ominous silence. So I went on, sweetly:
“What a handsome man that head-waiter was, wasn’t he? And wasn’t he big? I couldn’t see what fault you had to find with him, I thought he was most attentive; and it was nice of him to give me this rose. One values small attentions from persons in his position.”
I thought that that most innocent remark would have had the effect of a lighted match dropped into a barrel of gunpowder. But I was mistaken. They all, with one accord, persisted in saying nothing at all. I knew that they thought the more. Still, their dumbness had an effect which was disconcerting. I was just beginning to wonder if I was to spend the evening in the society of a company of deaf-mutes, when a remark from Mr Hammond loosed their tongues in earnest.