'What did I promise?' he said with a wink at his friends.
She whispered something in his ear, and the men all laughed.
Micky said: 'It's be the last big game of the season, Silva. You'll be sorry if you miss it.'
That surprised Maisie. At the Argyll Rooms she had got the impression that Micky disliked Tonio. Why was he now trying to talk Tonio into joining the card game?
Tonio said: 'I'm lucky today--look how much I've won on the horses! I shall play cards tonight.'
Micky glanced at Edward, and Maisie caught a look of relief in their eyes. Edward said: 'Shall we all dine together at the club?'
Solly looked at Maisie, and she realized she had been provided with a ready-made excuse for not spending the evening with him. 'Dine with the boys, Solly,' she said. 'I don't mind.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes. I've had a lovely day. You spend the evening at your club.'
'That's settled, then,' said Micky.
He and his father, Miss Cox and Edward took their leave.
Tonio and April went to place a bet on the next race. Solly offered Maisie his arm and said: 'Shall we walk for a while?'
They strolled along the white-painted rail that bounded the track. The sun was warm and the country air smelled good. After a while Solly said: 'Do you like me, Maisie?'
She stopped, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. 'I like you a lot.'
He looked into her eyes, and she was mystified to see tears behind his spectacles. 'Solly, dear, what is it?' she said.
'I like you, too,' he said. 'More than anyone I've ever met.'
'Thank you.' She was touched. It was unusual for Solly to show any emotion stronger than mild enthusiasm.
Then he said: 'Will you marry me?'
She was flabbergasted. This was the last thing in the world she had expected. Men of Solly's class did not propose to girls like her. They seduced them, gave them money, kept them as mistresses, and had children by them, but they did not marry them. She was too astounded to speak.
Solly went on: 'I'd give you anything you want. Please say yes.'
Marriage to Solly! Maisie would be unbelievably rich for ever and ever. A soft bed every night, a blazing fire in every room of the house, and as much butter as she could eat. She would get up when she pleased, not when she had to. She would never be cold again, never hungry, never shabbily dressed, never weary.
The word 'yes' trembled on the tip of her tongue.
She thought of April's tiny room in Soho, with its nest of mice in the wall; she thought of how the privy stank on warm days; she thought of the nights they went without dinner; she thought of how her feet ached after a day of walking the streets.
She looked at Solly. How hard could it be, to marry this man?
He said: 'I love you so much, I'm just desperate for you.'
He really did love her, she could tell.
And that was the trouble.
She did not love him.
He deserved better. He deserved a wife who really loved him, not a hard-hearted guttersnipe on the make. If she married him she would be cheating him. And he was too good for that.
She felt close to tears. She said: 'You're the kindest, most gentle man I've ever met--'
'Don't say no, please?' he interrupted. 'If you can't say yes, say nothing. Think about it, at least for a day, perhaps longer.'
Maisie sighed. She knew she should turn him down, and it would have been easier to do so right away. But he was begging her. 'I'll think about it,' she said.
He beamed. 'Thank you.'
She shook her head ruefully. 'Whatever happens, Solly, I believe I'll never be proposed to by a better man.'
Section 2
HUGH AND MAISIE TOOK THE PENNY RIDE on the pleasure steamer from Westminster Pier to Chelsea. It was a warm, light evening, and the muddy river was busy with cockle-boats, barges and ferries. They steamed upstream, under the new railway bridge for Victoria Station, passing Christopher Wren's Chelsea Hospital on the north shore and, on the south, the flowers of Battersea Fields, London's traditional dueling ground. Battersea Bridge was a ramshackle wooden structure that looked ready to fall down. At its south end were chemical factories, but on the opposite side pretty cottages clustered around Chelsea Old Church, and naked children splashed in the shallows.
Less than a mile beyond the bridge they disembarked and walked up the wharf to the magnificent gilded gateway of Cremorne Gardens. The Gardens consisted of twelve acres of groves and grottoes, flower beds and lawns, ferneries and copses between the river and the King's Road. It was dusk when they arrived, and there were Chinese lanterns in the trees and gaslight along the winding paths. The place was packed: many of the younger people who had been at the races had decided to finish the day here. Everyone was dressed up to the nines, and they sauntered carefree through the gardens, laughing and flirting, the girls in pairs, the young men in larger groups, the couples arm-in-arm.
The weather had been fine all day, sunny and warm, but now it was becoming a hot, thundery night that threatened a storm. Hugh felt at once elated and nervous. He was thrilled to have Maisie on his arm, but he had the insecure sense that he did not know the rules of the game he was playing. What did she expect? Would she let him kiss her? Would she let him do anything he wanted? He longed to touch her body, but he did not know where to begin. Would she expect him to go all the way? He wanted to, but he had never done it before and he was afraid of making a fool of himself. The other clerks at Pilasters talked a lot about dollymops, and what they would and would not do, but Hugh suspected that much of what they said was boasting. Anyway, Maisie could not be treated as a dollymop. She was more complex than that.
He was also a little worried that he might be seen by someone he knew. His family would disapprove powerfully of what he was doing. Cremorne Gardens was not only a lower-class place, it was thought by Methodists to encourage immorality. If he were found out, Augusta would be sure to use it against him. It was one thing for Edward to take loose women to disreputable places: he was the son and heir. It was different for Hugh, penniless and poorly educated and expected to be a failure like his father: they would say that licentious pleasure gardens were his natural habitat, and he belonged with clerks and artisans and girls like Maisie.
Hugh was at a critical point in his career. He was on the point of getting promoted to correspondence clerk--at a salary of 150 pounds a year, more than double what he was getting now--and that could be jeopardized by a report of dissolute behavior.
He looked anxiously at the other men walking along the winding paths between the flower beds, fearful of recognizing someone. There was a sprinkling of upper-class men, some with girls on their arms; but they all carefully avoided Hugh's eye, and he realized they too were apprehensive about being seen there.
