"
"I don't mind. But I don't want to stand here any longer. It's cold,
and, besides, I've got to be up west by six."
They turned and strolled on toward Westminster. Robert Stonehouse still
kept his hands thrust into his pockets, and the position, gave his
heavy-shouldered figure a hunched fighting look, as though he had set
himself to stride out against a tearing storm. He took no notice of
Cosgrave, who talked on rapidly, stammering a little and scrambling for
his words. The wind blew his hair on end, and he walked with his small
wistful nose lifted to the invisible stars.
"You see, I can't tell anyone at home about her. It's not as though she
were even what people call a lady. (Oh, I'm perfectly sane--I don't
humbug myself.) Mother'd have a fit, and the Pater only looks at that
kind of thing in one way--his own particularly disgusting way. She drops
her aitches sometimes. But she's good, and she's pretty as a flower. I
met her at a dance club. I'd never been to such a place before. And
then one evening it suddenly came over me that I wanted to be among a lot
of people who were having a good time. So I plunged. You pay sixpence,
you know, and everybody dances with everybody. Of course I can't dance.
She saw me hanging round and looking glum, I suppose, and she was nice to
me. She taught me a few steps, and I told her about the exam, and how
worried I was about it, and we became friends. I've never had a
girl-friend before.
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