Parable laugh. I could
hardly credit my ears, but half-way through the cutlets he did it
again.
There are two kinds of women. There is the woman who, the more she
eats and drinks, the stodgier she gets, and the woman who lights up
after it. I suggested a peche Melba between them, and when I
returned with it, Mr. Parable was sitting with his elbows on the
table gazing across at her with an expression that I can only
describe as quite human. It was when I brought the coffee that he
turned to me and asked:
"What's doing? Nothing stuffy," he added. "Is there an Exhibition
anywhere--something in the open air?"
"You are forgetting Miss Clebb," the lady reminded him.
"For two pins," said Mr. Parable, "I would get up at the meeting and
tell Miss Clebb what I really think about her."
I suggested the Earl's Court Exhibition, little thinking at the time
what it was going to lead to; but the lady at first wouldn't hear of
it, and the party at the next table calling for their bill (they had
asked for it once or twice before, when I came to think of it), I
had to go across to them.
When I got back the argument had just concluded, and the lady was
holding up her finger.
"On condition that we leave at half-past nine, and that you go
straight to Caxton Hall," she said.
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