'I'm hungry,' she said. 'Let's get something to eat.'
'That's an idea,' George said eagerly, conscious of Robinson's eleven pounds in his wallet. 'Where would you like to go? The Dorchester?' He was quite willing to spend his last penny on her if it would help to create a good impression. He had never been to the Dorchester, but he had heard about it. It was the smartest place he could think of that was close at hand.
'The what?' she asked, staring at him blankly. 'Do you mean the Dorchester Hotel?'
He felt himself flushing. 'Yes,' he said. 'Why not?'
'What, in those clothes?' she asked, eyeing him up and down. 'My dear man! They wouldn't let you past the door.'
He looked at his worn shoes, his face burning. If she had struck him with a whip she couldn't have succeeded in hurting him more.
'And what about me?' she went on, apparently unaware that she had so completely crushed him. 'The Dorchester in these rags?'
'I—I'm sorry,' George said, not looking at her. 'I just wanted to give you a good time. I—I didn't think it mattered what you wore.'
'Well, it does,' she said coldly.
There was a long, awkward pause. George was too flustered to suggest anywhere else. She'll go in a moment, he thought feverishly. I'm sure she'll go. Why am I standing like this, doing nothing? I can't expect her to suggest anything—it's my place to make the arrangements.
But the more he tried to think where he could take her, the more panic-stricken he became.
She was eyeing him curiously now. He could feel her eyes on his face.
'Perhaps you have something else to do . . .' she said suddenly.
'Me? Of course not,' George said, over eager and almost shouting. 'I—I've got nowhere to go. I just don't go anywhere, that's all. I—I don't know where you'd like to go. Perhaps you'll suggest something.'
'Where do you live?'
Astonished, George told her.
'Let's go to your place,' she said. 'I'm tired of the heat and the crowds.'
George could scarcely believe his ears.
'My place?' he repeated blankly. 'Oh, you wouldn't like that. I mean it's only a room. It—it isn't much. It's not very comfortable.'
'It's somewhere to sit, isn't it?' she said, staring a little impatiently at him. 'Or can't you take women there?'
He hadn't the faintest idea. It was something he had never contemplated doing. He had visions of Mrs Rhodes' disapproving face, and he flinched away from the thought. Then he remembered once seeing one of the other boarders bring a lady visitor to his room. Of course, the visitor hadn't been like Cora; but if one boarder could do it, wily couldn't he? Besides, if they went at once, Mrs Rhodes would be in the basement having supper. She wouldn't even see him.
'Oh, that's all right,' he said eagerly. 'Nothing like that. We can go if you would like to. It's only the room isn't much . . .'
She was beginning to move towards Edgware Road. Now that that was settled, she seemed to have lost interest in him. She walked on as if he wasn't with her.
George tagged along behind. Of course he was excited. To have a girl like Cora in his room! He thought at least she would want to dance, or go to the pictures, or do something extravagant.
She suddenly stopped outside a snack bar.
'Let's take something in with us,' she said, looking at the appetizing show in the window. Without waiting for him to agree, she entered the shop.
'Two chicken sandwiches, two cheese sandwiches and two apples,' she said to the white-coated attendant behind the counter.
George planked down a ten-shilling note while the attendant packed the sandwiches and apples in a cardboard container.
'How much?' Cora asked, ignoring George's money. 'That'll be two and six, miss,' the attendant said, looking first at her and then at George.
'Here you are,' George said, pushing the note towards the attendant
Cora put down one shilling and threepence. 'That's my share,' she said shortly, and picked up the cardboard container.
'I say!' George protested. 'This is my show.' And he tried to give her back her money.
'Keep it,' she said, turning towards the door. 'I always pay for myself.'
'You can't do that . . .' George said feebly, but she was already moving away, and by now had left the shop.
'The sort of girl I'd like to go out with,' the attendant said wistfully. 'Most of 'em take the linings from your pockets.'
George, his face burning, snatched up his change and ran after Cora.
