The Old Adam: A Story of Adventure

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The Old Adam: A Story of Adventure Page 36

by Arnold Bennett


  CHAPTER VIII

  DEALING WITH ELSIE

  I.

  The headquarters of the Azure Society were situate in Marloes Road, forno other reason than that it happened so. Though certain famous peopleinhabit Marloes Road, no street could well be less fashionable than thisthoroughfare, which is very arid and very long, and a very long way offthe centre of the universe.

  "The Azure Society, you know!" Edward Henry added when he had given theexact address to the chauffeur of the taxi.

  The chauffeur, however, did not know, and did not seem to be ashamed ofhis ignorance. His attitude indicated that he despised Marloes Road,and was not particularly anxious for his vehicle to be seen therein,especially on a wet night, but that nevertheless he would endeavour toreach it. When he did reach it, and observed the large concourse ofshining automobiles that struggled together in the rain in front of theilluminated number named by Edward Henry, the chauffeur admitted tohimself that for once he had been mistaken, and his manner of receivingmoney from Edward Henry was generously respectful.

  Originally the headquarters of the Azure Society had been a seminary andschoolmistress' house. The thoroughness with which the buildings hadbeen transformed showed that money was not among the things which thesociety had to search for. It had rich resources, and it had also highsocial standing; and the deferential commissionaires at the doors andthe fluffy-aproned, appealing girls who gave away programmes in thefoyer were a proof that the society, while doubtless anxious about suchsubjects as the persistence of individuality after death, had no desireto reconstitute the community on a democratic basis. It was above suchtransient trifles of reform, and its high endeavours were confined toquestions of immortality, of the infinite, of sex, and of art: whichquestions it discussed in fine raiment and with all the punctilio ofcourtly politeness.

  Edward Henry was late, in common with some two hundred other people ofwhom the majority were elegant women wearing Paris or almost Paris gownswith a difference. As on the current of the variegated throng hedrifted through corridors into the bijou theatre of the society, hecould not help feeling proud of his own presence there; and yet at thesame time he was scorning, in his Five Towns way, the preciosity and thesimperings of these his fellow creatures. Seated in the auditorium, atthe end of a row, he was aware of an even keener satisfaction as peoplebowed and smiled at him; for the theatre was so tiny and the reunion sochoice that it was obviously an honour and a distinction to have beeninvited to such an exclusive affair. To the evening first fixed for thedramatic _soiree_ of the Azure Society he had received no invitation.But shortly after the postponement due to Elsie April's indisposition anenvelope addressed by Marrier himself, and containing the sacred card,had arrived for him in Bursley. His instinct had been to ignore it, andfor two days he had ignored it, and then he noticed in one corner theinitials "E.A." Strange that it did not occur to him immediately thatE.A. stood, or might stand, for Elsie April!

  Reflection brings wisdom and knowledge. In the end he was absolutelyconvinced that E.A. stood for Elsie April; and at the last moment,deciding that it would be the act of a fool and a coward to decline whatwas practically a personal request from a young and enchanting woman, hehad come to London--short of sleep, it is true, owing to localconvivialities, but he had come. And, curiously, he had notcommunicated with Marrier. Marrier had been extremely taken up with thedramatic _soiree_ of the Azure Society, which Edward Henry justifiablybut quite privately resented. Was he not paying three pounds a week toMarrier?

  And now, there he sat, known, watched, a notoriety, the card who hadraised Pilgrim to the skies, probably the only theatrical proprietor inthe crowded and silent audience; and he was expecting anxiously to seeElsie April again--across the footlights! He had not seen her since thenight of the stone-laying, over a week earlier. He had not sought tosee her. He had listened then to the delicate tones of her weak,whispering, thrilling voice, and had expressed regret for Rose Euclid'splight. But he had done no more. What could he have done? Clearly hecould not have offered money to relieve the plight of Rose Euclid, whowas the cousin of a girl as wealthy and as sympathetic as Elsie April.To do so would have been to insult Elsie. Yet he felt guilty none theless. An odd situation! The delicate tones of Elsie's weak,whispering, thrilling voice on the scaffolding haunted his memory, andcame back with strange clearness as he sat waiting for the curtain toascend.

  There was an outburst of sedate applause, and a turning of heads to theright. Edward Henry looked in that direction. Rose Euclid herself wasbowing from one of the two boxes on the first tier. Instantly she hadbeen recognised and acknowledged, and the clapping had in nowisedisturbed her. Evidently she accepted it as a matter of course. Howfamous, after all, she must be, if such an audience would pay her such ameed! She was pale, and dressed glitteringly in white. She seemedyounger, more graceful, much more handsome, more in accordance with herrenown. She was at home and at ease up there in the brightness ofpublicity. The imposing legend of her long career had survived theeclipse in the United States. Who could have guessed that some ten daysbefore she had landed heart-broken and ruined at Tilbury from the_Minnetonka_?

  Edward Henry was impressed.

  "She's none so dusty!" he said to himself in the incomprehensible slangof the Five Towns. The phrase was a high compliment to Rose Euclid,aged fifty and looking anything you like over thirty. It measured theextent to which he was impressed.

  Yes, he felt guilty. He had to drop his eyes, lest hers should catchthem. He examined guiltily the programme, which announced "The New DonJuan," a play "in three acts and in verse"--author unnamed. The curtainwent up.

 

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