An Outback Marriage | Page 8

stop.
"'Ere," he said, in commanding tones. "'Oo are you darncin' with?"

"I'm darncin' with 'im," answered the girl, pertly, indicating the
Englishman with a jerk of her head.
"Ho, you're darncin' with 'im, are you? 'E brought you 'ere, p'r'aps?"
"No, he didn't," she said.
"No," said he. "You know well enough 'e didn't."
While this conversation was going on, the English-man maintained an
attitude of dignified reserve, leaving it to the lady to decide who was to
be the favoured man. At last he felt it was hardly right for an Oxford
man, and a triple blue at that, to be discussed in this contemptuous way
by a larrikin and his "donah," so he broke into the discussion, perhaps a
little abruptly, but using his most polished style.
"I--ah--asked this lady to dance, and if she--er--will do me the honour,"
he said, "I--"
"Oh! you arst 'er to darnce? And what right 'ad you to arst 'er to darnce,
you lop-eared rabbit?" interrupted the larrikin, raising his voice as he
warmed to his subject. "I brought 'er 'ere. I paid the shillin'. Now then,
you take your 'ook," he went on, pointing sternly to the door, and
talking as he would to a disobedient dog. "Go on, now. Take your
'ook."
The Englishman said nothing, but his jaw set ominously. The girl
giggled, delighted at being the centre of so much observation. The band
stopped playing, and the dancers crowded round. Word was passed
down that it was a "toff darncin' with Nugget's donah," and from
various parts of the room black-coated duplicates of Nugget hurried
swiftly to the scene.
The doorkeeper turned to Gordon. "You 'd best get your mate out o'
this," he said. "These are the Rocks Push, and they'll deal with him all
right."
"Deal with him, will they?" said Gordon, looking at the gesticulating

Nugget. "They'll bite off more than they can chew if they interfere with
him. This is just his form, a row like this. He's a bit of a champion in a
rough-and-tumble, I believe."
"Is he?" said the doorkeeper, sardonically. "Well, look 'ere, now, you
take it from me, if there's a row Nugget will spread him out as flat as a
newspaper. They've all been in the ring in their time, these coves.
There's Nugget, and Ginger, and Brummy--all red 'ot. You get him
away!"
Meanwhile the Englishman's ire was gradually rising. He was past the
stage of considering whether it was worth while to have a fight over a
factory girl in a shilling dancing saloon, and the desire for battle blazed
up in his eyes. He turned and confronted Nugget.
"You go about your business," he said, dropping all the laboured
politeness out of his tones. "If she likes to dance--"
He got no further. A shrill whistle rang through the room; a voice
shouted, "Don't 'it 'im; 'ook 'im!" His arms were seized from behind and
pinioned to his sides. The lights were turned out. Somebody in front hit
him a terrific crack in the eye at the same moment that someone else
administered a violent kick from the rear. He was propelled by an
invisible force to the head of the stairs, and then--whizz! down he went
in one prodigious leap, clear from the top to the first landing.
Here, in pitch-darkness, he grappled one of his assailants. For a few
seconds they swayed and struggled, and then rolled down the rest of the
stairs, over and over each other, grappling and clawing, each trying to
tear the other's shirt off. When they rolled into the street, Carew
discovered that he had hold of Charlie Gordon.
They sat up and looked at each other. Then they made a simultaneous
rush for the stairs, but the street door was slammed in their faces. They
kicked it violently, but without result, except that a mob of faces looked
out of the first-floor window and hooted, and a bucket of water was
emptied over them. A crowd collected as if by magic, and the spectacle
of two gentlemen in evening dress trying to kick in the door of a

shilling dancing saloon afforded it unmitigated delight.
"'Ere's two toffs got done in all right," said one.
"What O! Won't she darnce with you?" said another; and somebody
from the back threw banana peel at them.
Charlie recovered his wits first. The Englishman was fairly berserk
with rage, and glared round on the bystanders as if he contemplated a
rush among them. The cabman put an end to the performance. He was
tranquil and unemotional, and he soothed them down and coaxed them
into the cab. The band in the room above resumed the dreamy waltz
music of "Bid me Good-bye and go!" and they went.
Carew subsided into the corner,