“Well,” said Conolly, “you may introduce me, and we can consider the supper afterwards.  Would it be indiscreet to ask how you obtained your own introduction?  You dont, I suppose, move in the same circle as she; and if she is as particular as your own people, she can hardly form promiscuous acquaintanceships.”

“A man at the point of death does not stop to think about etiquet.  She saved my life.”

“Saved your life!  That sounds romantic.”

“There was precious little romance about it, though I owe my being alive now to her presence of mind.  It happened in the rummest way.  I was brought behind the scenes one night by a Cambridge chum.  We were painting the town a bit red.  We were not exactly drunk; but we were not particularly sober either; and I was very green at that time, and made a fool of myself about Lalage:  staring; clapping like a madman in the middle of her songs; getting into the way of everybody and everything, and so on.  Then a couple of fellows we knew turned up, and we got chatting at the wing with some girls.  At last a fellow came in with a bag of cherries; and we began trying that old trick—­you know—­taking the end of a stalk between your lips and drawing the cherry into the mouth without touching it with your hand, you know.  I tried it; and I was just getting the cherry into my mouth when some idiot gave me a drive in the waistcoat.  I made a gulp; and the cherry stuck fast in my throat.  I began to choke.  Nobody knew what to do; and while they were pushing me about, some thinking I was only pretending, the girls beginning to get frightened, and the rest shouting at me to swallow the confounded thing, I was getting black in the face, and my head was bursting:  I could see nothing but red spots.  It was a near thing, I tell you.  Suddenly I got a shake; and then a little fist gave me a stunning thump on the back, that made the cherry bounce out against my palate.  I gasped and coughed like a grampus:  the stalk was down my throat still.  Then the little hand grabbed my throat and made me open my mouth wide; and the cherry was pulled out, stalk and all.  It was Lalage who did this while the rest were gaping helplessly.  I dont remember what followed.  I thought I had fainted; but it appears that I nearly cried, and talked the most awful nonsense to her.  I suppose the choking made me hysterical.  However, I distinctly recollect the stage manager bullying the girls, and turning us all out.  I was very angry with myself for being childish, as they told me I had been; and when I got back to Cambridge I actually took to reading.  A few months afterward I made another trip to town, and went behind the scenes again.  She recognized me, and chaffed me about the cherry.  I jumped at my chance; I improved the acquaintance; and now I know her pretty well.”

“You doubt whether any of the ladies that were with us at the concert would have been equally useful in such an emergency?”