“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.  That’s what cleverness does for you.”  Alf nodded his head deeply and reprovingly.  “Given to me, they were, by a pal o’ mine who works at the theatre.  They’re for to-night.  I thought—­”

Jenny, with her heart beating, was stricken for an instant with panic.  She bent her head lower, holding the rose against the side of her hat, watching it with a zealous eye, once again to test the effect.  He thought she was coquetting, and leaned a little towards her.  He would have been ready to touch her face teasingly with his forefinger.

“Oh,” Jenny exclaimed, with a hurried assumption of matter of fact ease suddenly ousting her panic.  “That’s very good.  So you thought you’d take Emmy!  That was a very good boy!”

“I thought ...” heavily stammered Alf, his eyes opening in a surprised way as he found himself thus headed off from his true intention.  He stared blankly at Jenny, until she thought he looked like the bull on the hoardings who has “heard that they want more.”  Emmy stared at her also, quite unguardedly, a concentrated stare of agonised doubt and impatience.  Emmy’s face grew pinched and sallow at the unexpected strain upon her nerves.

“That was what you thought, wasn’t it?” Jenny went on impudently, shooting a sideways glance at him that made Alf tame with helplessness.  “Poor old Em hasn’t had a treat for ever so long.  Do her good to go.  You did mean that, didn’t you?”

“I ...” said Alf.  “I ...”  He was inclined for a moment to bluster.  He looked curiously at Jenny’s profile, judicial in its severity.  Then some kind of tact got the better of his first impulse.  “Well, I thought one of you girls ...” he said.  “Will you come, Em?  Have to look sharp.”

“Really?” Emmy jumped up, her face scarlet and tears of joy in her eyes.  She did not care how it had been arranged.  Her pride was unaroused; the other thought, the triumph of the delicious moment, was overwhelming.  Afterwards—­ah, no no!  She would not think.  She was going.  She was actually going.  In a blur she saw their faces, their kind eyes....

“Good boy!” cried Jenny.  “Buck up, Em, if you’re going to change your dress.  Seats!  My word!  How splendid!” She clapped her hands quickly, immediately again taking up her work so as to continue it.  Into her eyes had come once more that strange expression of pitying contempt.  Her white hands flashed in the wan light as she quickly threaded her needle and knotted the silk.

CHAPTER III:  ROWS

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