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He looked down at his empty plate. There was something he wanted to say to her. He kept looking round the table for inspiration. At last, with Mrs. Hewson's burst of laughter at the paper's description of the Pentecostal visitations, he took the plunge head down the words spluttering in whispers out of his lips. "Would you care to come for a little walk down the Strand-on-Green?" he asked.
I'll be ready to meet you outside the office at six o'clock. You don't get out till a quarter past? Then a quarter past. We go to dinner we go to a theatre; music-hall if you like then I drive you down to Waterloo, put you in the last train to Kew Bridge and that is all." She laughed in spite of herself. "I'll write to Strand-on-Green, and let you know what evening. Miss Bishop what initial?"
"What's S. for?" "Sally." "Miss Sally Bishop, 73 Strand-on-Green, Kew Bridge. And I owe you ten pounds." For a moment she smiled then her expression changed. "That's perfectly ridiculous," she said. "I wouldn't have you think it anything else," he said; "but, nevertheless, that's a legally contracted debt."
"You're too sensitive for this business, Sally," she said at last. "You're too romantic. Why don't you get married?" "I wish I could," said Sally. "Well, you don't take your chances." "What chances?" "Mr. Arthur " They both laughed. Mr. Arthur Montagu was a bank clerk, lodging in the same house on Strand-on-Green.
In the bedroom which they shared in a house on Strand-on-Green, she was combing out her short hair, her blouse discarded, her thin arms bent at acute angles, and between her lips a Virginian cigarette. "Wet?" she said laconically, without turning round. "Dripping." Sally threw her hat on the bed. "If you bought umbrellas instead of cheap silk petticoats " "I knew you'd say that," said Sally.
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