Man With Two Left Feet | Page 6

knew that
very soon the daffodils were due on the stage to clinch the
verisimilitude of the scene by dancing the tango with the rabbits. He
endeavoured to make the most of the time at his disposal.
'I am glad to see you!' he said.
'Sh-h!' said the stage-manager.
Henry was discouraged. Romeo could not have made love under these

conditions. And then, just when he was pulling himself together to
begin again, she was torn from him by the exigencies of the play.
He wandered moodily off into the dusty semi-darkness. He avoided the
prompt-box, whence he could have caught a glimpse of her, being loath
to meet the stage-manager just at present.
Walter Jelliffe came up to him, as he sat on a box and brooded on life.
'A little less of the double forte, old man,' he said. 'Miss Weaver has
been kicking about the noise on the side. She wanted you thrown out,
but I said you were my mascot, and I would die sooner than part with
you. But I should go easy on the chest-notes, I think, all the same.'
Henry nodded moodily. He was depressed. He had the feeling, which
comes so easily to the intruder behind the scenes, that nobody loved
him.
The piece proceeded. From the front of the house roars of laughter
indicated the presence on the stage of Walter Jelliffe, while now and
then a lethargic silence suggested that Miss Clarice Weaver was in
action. From time to time the empty space about him filled with girls
dressed in accordance with the exuberant fancy of the producer of the
piece. When this happened, Henry would leap from his seat and
endeavour to locate Alice; but always, just as he thought he had done
so, the hidden orchestra would burst into melody and the chorus would
be called to the front.
It was not till late in the second act that he found an opportunity for
further speech.
The plot of 'The Girl From Brighton' had by then reached a critical
stage. The situation was as follows: The hero, having been disinherited
by his wealthy and titled father for falling in love with the heroine, a
poor shop-girl, has disguised himself (by wearing a different coloured
necktie) and has come in pursuit of her to a well-known seaside resort,
where, having disguised herself by changing her dress, she is serving as
a waitress in the Rotunda, on the Esplanade. The family butler,

disguised as a Bath-chair man, has followed the hero, and the wealthy
and titled father, disguised as an Italian opera-singer, has come to the
place for a reason which, though extremely sound, for the moment
eludes the memory. Anyhow, he is there, and they all meet on the
Esplanade. Each recognizes the other, but thinks he himself is
unrecognized. Exeunt all, hurriedly, leaving the heroine alone on the
stage.
It is a crisis in the heroine's life. She meets it bravely. She sings a song
entitled 'My Honolulu Queen', with chorus of Japanese girls and
Bulgarian officers.
Alice was one of the Japanese girls.
She was standing a little apart from the other Japanese girls. Henry was
on her with a bound. Now was his time. He felt keyed up, full of
persuasive words. In the interval which had elapsed since their last
conversation yeasty emotions had been playing the dickens with his
self-control. It is practically impossible for a novice, suddenly
introduced behind the scenes of a musical comedy, not to fall in love
with somebody; and, if he is already in love, his fervour is increased to
a dangerous point.
Henry felt that it was now or never. He forgot that it was perfectly
possible--indeed, the reasonable course--to wait till the performance
was over, and renew his appeal to Alice to marry him on the way back
to her hotel. He had the feeling that he had got just about a quarter of a
minute. Quick action! That was Henry's slogan.
He seized her hand.
'Alice!'
'Sh-h!' hissed the stage-manager.
'Listen! I love you. I'm crazy about you. What does it matter whether
I'm on the stage or not? I love you.'

'Stop that row there!'
'Won't you marry me?'
She looked at him. It seemed to him that she hesitated.
'Cut it out!' bellowed the stage-manager, and Henry cut it out.
And at this moment, when his whole fate hung in the balance, there
came from the stage that devastating high note which is the sign that
the solo is over and that the chorus are now about to mobilize. As if
drawn by some magnetic power, she suddenly receded from him, and
went on to the stage.
A man in Henry's position and frame of mind is not responsible for his
actions. He saw nothing but her;