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Updated: May 18, 2025
While they were waiting for the bill the situation grew more strained. Priam was aware of a desire to fling down sovereigns on the table and rush wildly away. Even Mrs. Challice, vaguely feeling this, had a difficulty in conversing. "You are like your photograph!" she remarked, glancing at his face which it should be said had very much changed within half-an-hour.
And, as a capping to the day, Mrs. Alice Challice stepped out of it. Alice on Hotels She was wearing the same red roses. "Oh!" she said, very quickly, pouring out the words generously from the inexhaustible mine of her good heart. "I'm so sorry I missed you Saturday night. I can't tell you how sorry I am. Of course it was all my fault. I oughtn't to have got into the lift without you.
Alice Challice stood under the immense glass portico of the Grand Babylon, exposed to the raking stare of two commissionaires. "So you are staying here!" she said, as if laying hold of a fact which she had hitherto hesitated to touch. "Yes," he said. "Won't you come in?"
It is easy, sitting there in your chair, with no Mrs. Alice Challice in front of you, to invent diplomatic replies; but conceive yourself in Priam's place! Besides, he did think she would suit him. And most positively he could not bear the prospect of seeing her pass out of his life. He had been through that experience once, when his hat blew off in the Tube; and he did not wish to repeat it.
"Mathah!" he hurried away, unregarded, unregretted, splendidly repudiated by these delicate refined creatures who were struggling for a livelihood in a great city. Alice Challice "I suppose you are Mr. Leek, aren't you?" a woman greeted him as he stood vaguely hesitant outside St. George's Hall, watching the afternoon audience emerge.
Challice could reasonably be expected to grasp their import, much less believe them. "There's been a mistake about the so-called death of Priam Farll." "Yes, a hundred and forty thousand pounds." No, he could enunciate neither the one sentence nor the other.
"I thought it was a restaurant, not a theatre," Priam whispered to Mrs. Challice. "So it is a restaurant," said his companion. "But I hear they're obliged to do like this because there's always such a crowd. It's very 'andsome, isn't it?" He agreed that it was. He felt that London had got a long way in front of him and that he would have to hurry a great deal before he could catch it up.
Painted hands, pointing to the mysterious word 'lifts, waved you onwards down this tunnel. "Hurry up, please," came a voice out of the spectral gloom. Mrs. Challice thereupon ran. Now up the tunnel, opposing all human progress there blew a steady trade-wind of tremendous force. Immediately Priam began to run the trade-wind removed his hat, which sailed buoyantly back towards the street.
It is in St. George's Hall, I think. But you will see it in the Telegraph; also the time. I will be there when the doors open. You will recognize me from my photograph; but I shall wear red roses in my hat. So au revoir for the present. Yours sincerely, Alice Challice. P.S. There are always a lot of dark parts at Maskelyne and Cook's. I must ask you to behave as a gentleman should. Excuse me.
Never in his life had he conversed on such terms with such a person as Mrs. Alice Challice. She was in every way a novelty for him in clothes, manners, accent, deportment, outlook on the world and on paint. He had heard and read of such beings as Mrs. Alice Challice, and now he was in direct contact with one of them. The whole affair struck him as excessively odd, as a mad escapade on his part.
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