All eyes at once were turned on me. Mr. Bang’s glance being even contemptuous if not surly, I thought.
“Because that jolly monarch’s name suggests magnificence and extravagance. You have read of the ‘Field of the Cloth of Gold?’ ”
I assented to the soft impeachment.
“Merry King Hal’s name also suggests a plenitude of wives, an over-indulgence in womankind, ha!” he went on.
Sister Mary’s large eyes were wide open now, and I fancied I could almost see in them an expression of fear, as well as pain. Evidently she did not know what to expect next, and, I fancy if this guess of mine is right, shared the apprehensions of the rest of us.
“Oh, oh, Jack,” gasped his sister.
“All right, Mary. Don’t be frightened; but this place is largely what the French call a ‘House of Pleasure’ and it’s just as well Little Partner should be warned.”
If the French mean anything dreadful by “House of Pleasure,” the words conveyed nothing more to me than what I had found it, a place frequented by men and women, many of them vulgar, who drank cocktails and smoked cigarettes. But why should I be warned?
“I’m sure I’ve had dinner there often,” spoke up Mumsie, “and I know many good people who frequently go there for tea.” That was comforting anyhow.
“Yes,” drawled Mr. Bang, “ostensibly it’s an hotel.”