The way he carried on when the gal said they was three shillings was alarming.  At fust ’e thought she was ’aving a joke with ’im, and it took another gal and the fireman and an old gentleman wot was sitting behind ’im to persuade ’im different.  He was so upset that ’e couldn’t eat his arter paying for it, and Ted and Gerty had to finish it for ’im.

“They’re expensive, but they’re worth the money,” ses Gerty.  “You are good to me, George.  I could go on eating ’em all night, but you mustn’t fling your money away like this always.”

“I’ll see to that,” ses George, very bitter.

“I thought we was going to stand treat to each other?  That was the idea, I understood.”

“So we are,” ses Gerty.  “Ted stood the ’bus fares, didn’t he?”

“He did,” ses George, “wot there was of ’em; but wot about you?”

“Me?” ses Gerty, drawing her ’ead back and staring at ’im.  “Why, ’ave you forgot that cigar already, George?”

George opened ’is mouth, but ’e couldn’t speak a word.  He sat looking at ’er and making a gasping noise in ’is throat, and fortunately just as ’e got ’is voice back the curtain went up agin, and everybody said, “H’sh!”

He couldn’t enjoy the play at all, ’e was so upset, and he began to see more than ever ’ow wrong he ’ad been in taking Bob’s gal away from ’im.  He walked downstairs into the street like a man in a dream, with Gerty sticking to ’is arm and young Ted treading on ’is heels behind.

“Now, you mustn’t waste any more money, George,” ses Gerty, when they got outside.  “We’ll walk ’ome.”

George ’ad got arf a mind to say something about a ’bus, but he remembered in time that very likely young Ted hadn’t got any more money.  Then Gerty said she knew a short cut, and she took them, walking along little, dark, narrow streets and places, until at last, just as George thought they must be pretty near ’ome, she began to dab her eyes with ’er pocket-’andkerchief and say she’d lost ’er way.

“You two go ’ome and leave me,” she ses, arf crying.  “I can’t walk another step.”

“Where are we?” ses George, looking round.

“I don’t know,” ses Gerty.  “I couldn’t tell you if you paid me.  I must ’ave taken a wrong turning.  Oh, hurrah!  Here’s a cab!”

Afore George could stop ’er she held up ’er umbrella, and a ’ansom cab, with bells on its horse, crossed the road and pulled up in front of ’em.  Ted nipped in first and Gerty followed ’im.

“Tell ’im the address, dear, and make ’aste and get in,” ses Gerty.

George told the cabman, and then he got in and sat on Ted’s knee, partly on Gerty’s umbrella, and mostly on nothing.

“You are good to me, George,” ses Gerty, touching the back of ’is neck with the brim of her hat.  “It ain’t often I get a ride in a cab.  All the time I was keeping company with Bob we never ’ad one once.  I only wish I’d got the money to pay for it.”