The Agony Column | Page 4

it room; but, with the advent of halfpenny
journalism, the simple souls moved en masse to the Mail.
Tragedy and comedy mingle in the Agony Column. Erring ones are
urged to return for forgiveness; unwelcome suitors are warned that
"Father has warrant prepared; fly, Dearest One!" Loves that would
shame by their ardor Abelard and Heloise are frankly published--at ten
cents a word--for all the town to smile at. The gentleman in the brown
derby states with fervor that the blonde governess who got off the tram
at Shepherd's Bush has quite won his heart. Will she permit his
addresses? Answer; this department. For three weeks West had found
this sort of thing delicious reading. Best of all, he could detect in these
messages nothing that was not open and innocent. At their worst they
were merely an effort to side-step old Lady Convention; this inclination
was so rare in the British, he felt it should be encouraged. Besides, he
was inordinately fond of mystery and romance, and these engaging

twins hovered always about that column.
So, while waiting for his strawberries, he smiled over the
ungrammatical outburst of the young lady who had come to doubt the
genuineness of him who called her Dearest. He passed on to the second
item of the morning. Spoke one whose heart had been completely
conquered:
MY LADY sleeps. She of raven tresses. Corner seat from Victoria,
Wednesday night. Carried program. Gentleman answering inquiry
desires acquaintance. Reply here. --LE ROI.
West made a mental note to watch for the reply of raven tresses. The
next message proved to be one of Aye's lyrics--now almost a daily
feature of the column:
DEAREST: Tender loving wishes to my dear one. Only to be with you
now and always. None "fairer in my eyes." Your name is music to me. I
love you more than life itself, my own beautiful darling, my proud
sweetheart, my joy, my all! Jealous of everybody. Kiss your dear hands
for me. Love you only. Thine ever. --AYE.
Which, reflected West, was generous of Aye--at ten cents a word --and
in striking contrast to the penurious lover who wrote, farther along in
the column:
--loveu dearly; wantocu; longing; missu -
But those extremely personal notices ran not alone to love. Mystery,
too, was present, especially in the aquatic utterance:
DEFIANT MERMAID: Not mine. Alligators bitingu now. 'Tis well;
delighted. --FIRST FISH.
And the rather sanguinary suggestion:
DE Box: First round; tooth gone. Finale. You will FORGET ME NOT.
At this point West's strawberries arrived and even the Agony Column

could not hold his interest. When the last red berry was eaten he turned
back to read:
WATERLOO: Wed. 11:53 train. Lady who left in taxi and waved, care
to know gent, gray coat? --SINCERE.
Also the more dignified request put forward in:
GREAT CENTRAL: Gentleman who saw lady in bonnet 9 Monday
morning in Great Central Hotel lift would greatly value opportunity of
obtaining introduction.
This exhausted the joys of the Agony Column for the day, and West,
like the solid citizen he really was, took up the Times to discover what
might be the morning's news. A great deal of space was given to the
appointment of a new principal for Dulwich College. The affairs of the
heart, in which that charming creature, Gabrielle Ray, was at the
moment involved, likewise claimed attention. And in a quite
unimportant corner, in a most unimportant manner, it was related that
Austria had sent an ultimatum to Serbia. West had read part way
through this stupid little piece of news, when suddenly the Thunderer
and all its works became an uninteresting blur.
A girl stood just inside the door of the Carlton breakfast room.
Yes; he should have pondered that despatch from Vienna. But such a
girl! It adds nothing at all to say that her hair was a dull sort of gold;
her eyes violet. Many girls have been similarly blessed. It was her
manner; the sweet way she looked with those violet eyes through a
battalion of head waiters and resplendent managers; her air of being at
home here in the Carlton or anywhere else that fate might drop her
down. Unquestionably she came from oversea--from the States.
She stepped forward into the restaurant. And now slipped also into
view, as part of the background for her, a middle-aged man, who wore
the conventional black of the statesman. He, too, bore the American
label unmistakably. Nearer and nearer to West she drew, and he saw
that in her hand she carried a copy of the Daily Mail.

West's waiter was a master of the art of suggesting that no table in the
room was worth sitting at save that at which he held ready a chair. Thus
he lured the girl and her companion