An Outback Marriage | Page 7

"Nearest darncin' saloon," said the cabman. "There ain't no parties
to-night, sir; it's too 'ot."
"We're not expecting to drop into a ballroom without being asked,
thank you," said Gordon. "We want to go to one of those saloons where
you pay a shilling to go in. Some place where the larrikins go."
"Ho! is that it, sir?" said the cabman, with a grin. "Well, I'll take you to
a noo place, most selectest place I know. Git up, 'orse." And off they
rattled through the quiet streets, turning corners and crossing tramlines
every fifty yards apparently, and bumping against each other in the
most fraternal manner.
Soon the cab pulled up in a narrow, ill-lit street, at the open door of a
dingy house. Instructing the cabman to wait, they hustled upstairs, to be

confronted at the top by a man who took a shilling from each, and then
was not sure whether he would admit them. He didn't seem to like their
form exactly, and muttered something to a by-stander as they went in.
They saw a long, low room, brilliantly lighted by flaring gas jets. Down
one side, on wooden forms, was seated a row of flashily-dressed
girls--larrikin-esses on their native heath, barmaids from cheap,
disreputable hotels, shop girls, factory girls--all sharp-faced and pert,
young in years, but old in knowledge of evil. The demon of mischief
peeped out of their quick-moving, restless eyes. They had elaborate
fringes, and their short dresses exhibited well-turned ankles and legs.
A large notice on the wall stated that "Gentlemen must not dance with
nails in their boots. Gentlemen must not dance together."
"That blocks us," said Gordon, pointing to the notice. "Can't dance
together, no matter how much we want to. Look at these fellows here."
Opposite the women sat or lounged a score or two of youths--wiry,
hard-faced little fellows, for the most part, with scarcely a sizeable man
amongst them. They were all clothed in "push" evening dress--black
bell-bottomed pants, no waistcoat, very short black paget coat, white
shirt with no collar, and a gaudy neckerchief round the bare throat.
Their boots were marvels, very high in the heel and picked out with all
sorts of colours down the sides. They looked "varminty" enough for
anything; but the shifty eyes, low foreheads, and evil faces gave our
two heroes a sense of disgust. The Englishman thought that all the
stories he had heard of the Australian larrikin must be exaggerated, and
that any man who was at all athletic could easily hold his own among
such a poor-looking lot. The whole spectacle was disappointing. The
most elaborately decorous order prevailed; no excitement or rough play
was noticeable, and their expedition seemed likely to be a failure.
The bushman stared down the room with far-seeing eyes, apparently
looking at nothing, and contemplated the whole show with bored
indifference.
"Nothing very dazzling about this," he said. "I'm afraid we can't show
you anything very exciting here. Better go back to the club, eh?"

Just then the band (piano and violin) struck up a slow, laboured waltz,
"Bid me Good-bye and go," and each black-coated male, with languid
self-possession, strolled across the room, seized a lady by the arm,
jerked her to her feet without saying a syllable, and commenced to
dance in slow, convulsive movements, making a great many
revolutions for very little progress. Two or three girls were left sitting,
as their partners were talking in a little knot at the far end of the room;
one among them was conspicuously pretty, and she began to ogle
Carew in a very pronounced way.
"There's one hasn't got a partner," said Gordon. "Good-looking Tottie,
too. Go and ask her to dance. See what she says."
The Englishman hesitated for a second. "I don't like asking a perfect
stranger to dance," he said.
"Go on," said Gordon, "it's all right. She'll like it."
Carew drew down his cuffs, squared his shoulders, assumed his most
absolutely stolid drawing-room manner, and walked across the room, a
gleaming vision of splendour in his immaculate evening dress.
"May I--er--have the pleasure of this dance?" he said, with elaborate
politeness.
The girl giggled a little, but said nothing, then rose and took his arm.
As she did so, a youth among the talkers at the other end of the room
looked round, and stared for a second. Then he moistened his fingers
with his tongue, smoothed the hair on his temples, and with elbows
held out from his sides, shoulders hunched up, and under-jaw stuck
well out, bore down on Carew and the girl, who were getting under way
when he came up. Taking not the slightest notice of Carew, he touched
the girl on the shoulder with a sharp peremptory tap, and brought their
dance to a