ows raised a little so
that they formed a gable over his just drooped lids. No! he would never
be Crum's equal. All the same it was a jolly good show, and Cynthia Dark
simply ripping. Between the acts Crum regaled him with particulars of
Cynthia's private life, and the awful knowledge became Val's that, if he
liked, Crum could go behind. He simply longed to say: "I say, take me!"
but dared not, because of his deficiencies; and this made the last act or
two almost miserable. On coming out Crum said: "It's half an hour before
they close; let's go on to the Pandemonium." They took a hansom to
travel the hundred yards, and seats costing seven-and-six apiece because
they were going to stand, and walked into the Promenade. It was in these
little things, this utter negligence of money that Crum had such engaging
polish. The ballet was on its last legs and night, and the traffic of
the Promenade was suffering for the moment. Men and women were crowded
in three rows against the barrier. The whirl and dazzle on the stage,
the half dark, the mingled tobacco fumes and women's scent, all that
curious lure to promiscuity which belongs to Promenades, began to free
young Val from his idealism. He looked admiringly in a young woman's
face, saw she was not young, and quickly looked away. Shades of Cynthia
Dark! The young woman's arm touched his unconsciously; there was a scent
of musk and mignonette. Val looked round the corner of his lashes.
Perhaps she was young, after all. Her foot trod on his; she begged his
pardon. He said:

"Not at all; jolly good ballet, isn't it?"

"Oh, I'm tired of it; aren't you?"

Young Val smiled--his wide, rather charming smile. Beyond that he did
not go--not yet convinced. The Forsyte in him stood out for greater
certainty. And on the stage the ballet whirled its kaleidoscope of
snow-white, salmon-pink, and emerald-green and violet and seemed suddenly
to freeze into a stilly spangled pyramid. Applause broke out, and it was
over! Maroon curtains had cut it off. The semi-circle of men and women
round the barrier broke up, the young woman's arm pressed his. A little
way off disturbance seemed centring round a man with a pink carnation;
Val stole another glance at the young woman, who was looking towards it.
Three men, unsteady, emerged, walking arm in arm. The one in the centre
wore the pink carnation, a white waistcoat, a dark moustache; he reeled a
little as he walked. Crum's voice s