An Engagement of Convenience Part 20

"Even the London we know seems delightful," he remarked.

"London, though sometimes impelling to revolt, is always wonderful--it has always the fascination of the unknown."

"And is as supremely problematic as the unknowable of the philosophers."

"But it is solid and real, comes to us through all the five senses. Look at that strange old man with the tiger-lilies. I wonder how he comes by them at this time of year."

"That is one of the wonders of London," said Wyndham. "One sees the flowers of all seasons at every season."

"And sometimes the weather of all seasons at every season. Has Aldgate Pump a history?"

He confessed to ignorance, though he had an idea that he had read much about it in his boyhood, an epoch when he had been fascinated by all the odd monuments of the town. He recalled, however, after a time, that there was a legend connected with it, not unlike that of the wandering Jew.

"Is it actually a pump?" she asked.

"Oh, it's a real pump," he a.s.sured her.

"Because I had a suspicion just now; it struck me it might be a sort of old coaching-inn or something of the kind. I've often been deceived like that, have gone off to see strange things, and have found a coaching-inn."

"At least there is the consolation of refreshment at the inn."

"Not a bad idea," she conceded. "It would be a thing to boast about for the rest of one's life--to have refreshed one's self at the Aldgate Pump."

Both laughed. The omnibus pursued its way with a steady rumble. They had turned out of Piccadilly and pa.s.sed through Waterloo Place, and soon after through Trafalgar Square into the Strand, where the scene proved much busier. The pavements were thronged; people were pressing forward with an appearance of being very much in earnest. A sprinkling of tourists, clearly self-proclaimed by their holiday air and the style of their attire and grooming, paraded at leisure or gazed into the shop-windows. Here and there a young girl, in a picture frock and a big hat, tripped along daintily, holding her skirt with a touch that suggested Paris, and swinging her little bag from her free hand.

"Actresses going to rehearsal?" hazarded Wyndham, in response to his companion's interrogation.

"How charming they are!" she exclaimed. "And they are most of them frightfully poor. They struggle for years, and then drop out gradually.

Fortunately we women have the gift of living intensely for the day. A few weeks' engagement, the guinea or two a.s.sured for the time being, and see how we bloom."

"Ah, yes," said Wyndham reflectively; "life for them, as for many others, is pretty much of a game of roulette. They stake their all on the table, fortune fluctuates during a few turns of the wheel, and then--everything is swept away."

"Away, please, with these sad reflections! Why look too searchingly at things? The world is pleasant; why spoil it by examining it? Why turn one's eyes willingly away from the good to see the evil?"

"And at any rate the good is as real as the evil," he agreed.

"We must make things contribute to our happiness while we may. All these crowds of people have no idea that they are there for our entertainment; they do not know, poor things, that we have willed they should be masquerading to please us. They have the delusion they are going about their own affairs, and they see only an ordinary omnibus, full on the roof--that is, if they cared to look at us. To them what more commonplace than a journey on an omnibus from Hyde Park Corner to Aldgate Pump? Yet, to us, what a whimsical universe it is!"

The omnibus rattled along with a not unpleasing vibration. They pa.s.sed through the heart of the City, swept alongside St. Paul's, and then the humour of country cousins took possession of them. They pretended to be roused to excitement by all these guide-book regions and monuments, affected to be seeing them for the first time and to be recognising them from the engravings. Down Leadenhall Street they clattered at last, and presently to their surprise the conductor's head appeared above the stairway with the announcement of "Aldgate Pump, sir."

They descended. The omnibus pa.s.sed on, and they stood hesitating, a little lost, but greatly amused.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And a street arab in the very act of pumping! Why, it's real water."

They contemplated it for a moment or two. "Well, what do you think of it?" he asked.

"Thrilling," she admitted. "All pumps are interesting--in these days of universal taps. But look at those warehouses opposite, beyond the h.o.a.rding. Aren't they fascinating?"

"I believe the river lies beyond." Probably no existence had been less intertwined with the City of London than his, but he remembered the immediate neighbourhood pretty well from ancient wanderings, and he told her as an interesting fact that Mark Lane and Mincing Lane lay thereabouts.

"I think I have heard of them." Her face lighted with the pleasure of recognition. "Indeed, I'm sure I've seen them mentioned in the newspapers."

He tried to plumb her knowledge, but found no deeps. She knitted her brows prettily, or at least he imagined she did, under her veil. "A sort of Latin Quarter--an artist's colony?" she hazarded. "No, wait a bit, there was a wealthy, humdrum sort of man I once met, and everybody whispered he came out of Mincing Lane. He was not artistic. I give it up."

"He imported tea?"

"That's not unlikely," she agreed.

"That's what Mincing Lane is for. And Mark Lane is for corn and produce."

"How useful! What a good world it is! I think I like this part."

"Beyond is Eastcheap, famous for groceries, and beyond that again the water-side where all these things are landed."

"Let us come to Eastcheap." She was eager to see all the places he had enumerated, so he took her through the famous side-streets.

"I certainly do like this part of the world," she repeated emphatically.

"And do you know, your talk of tea, and corn, and produce, and warehouses has made me very hungry. If we stumble up against a charming place, we shall lunch."

And, a minute or two later, as they strolled down Eastcheap, at the corner of a narrow winding lane, they came upon a sort of cafe, which nice-looking merchants were entering, besides a goodly sprinkling of brisk young women. Lady Betty peered in through the door. The place seemed pretty full, but a stairway led to regions below. In a box, at the head of the stairway, and busily taking the cash, was a charming old man of mildest aspect.

Lady Betty declared it all fascinating, especially the part below stairs, which had the attraction of the as yet unseen.

Wyndham hesitated. "There is smoking below. You may not like it."

"There are other women going down," she insisted. "I can't resist the temptation."

It was an average type of City lunching place, but Lady Betty had never before tried the sort of thing, so Wyndham fell in with her whim. Down the stairs they went into a s.p.a.cious cellar, lighted with jets of gas, though the sun was still shining outside. Wreaths and clouds of smoke floated in the atmosphere, and a clatter of dominoes and crockery dominated the buzz of voices that rose from the chaos of people at the marble tables. The central tables seemed given up to chess-play, each game surrounded by onlookers, all with patient cups of coffee beside them. And here and there an exceptional table, laid with a napkin, and in possession of vigorous eaters, gave the note of the restaurant.

Wyndham and Lady Betty found a snug place on one side from which they could survey the room; and a neat little waitress, scarcely more than a child, came briskly forward to serve them, handing them with a sweet professional smile a long slip headed "Bill of Fare." They were glad to note that their entrance had attracted no attention. Lady Betty studied the bill excitedly. They made their decision, and Wyndham imparted it to the waitress.

"Thank you, sir," she said; "And what'll you have to drink, please?"

Again an eager colloquy, with the prosaic result of "two ginger-beers."

"A true old English beverage," declared Lady Betty, and her approval seemed to flash the aesthetic quality into it, to invest it with rank and n.o.bility. "Small or large?" persisted the waitress, her tone and demeanour of the gravest.

"Oh, large," said Lady Betty, and the girl's face brightened at the definiteness of the information.

"Two large ginger-beers--thank you, ma'am," she said, and went off sharply, leaving them to their amus.e.m.e.nt.

Whilst waiting, they surveyed the place at their leisure. "I like it here," exclaimed Lady Betty again. "Look at the old chess player there, with the bald pate and the eagle's nose. Watch him considering his move, with his hand hovering in the air, hesitating, yet ready to swoop down to capture a piece."

But the hand did not capture the piece. Instead, the shoulders shrugged, an expression of disgust overclouded the face, and the hand descended, dashing all the pieces from the board with one sweep. A roar of delight broke from the onlookers, and mingling with it from another part of the room came a sudden fresh clatter of dominoes, rapidly shuffled.

"What fresh, frank enjoyment! So this is the strenuous commercial life of London--gingerbeer and dominoes!"

"A strange set of people!" commented Wyndham. "Study these faces--from each shines a different life. I almost want to put my enormous acc.u.mulation of art theories on the fire, and to paint only human faces for the rest of my life."

"Wonderful! There seem at least fifty different races here--to judge from the shapes of the skulls and the varying types of features."