"Hallo! The curtain's
going up. What's the next item? Oh, those fool dogs!"
"I adore performing dogs!" said Agatha, looking toward the stage.
He turned to me. "Do you?"
The last thing on earth I desired to behold at that moment was a
performing animal. My sensitiveness led me to suspect a quizzical look
in Dale's eye. Fortunately, he did not wait for my answer, but went on
in a boyish attempt to appease Agatha.
"I don't despise them, you know, Lady Durrell, but I've seen them twice
before. They're really rather good. There's a football match at the end
which is quite exciting."
"Oh, the beauties!" cried Agatha over her shoulder as the dogs trotted
on the stage. I nodded an acknowledgment of the remark, and she plunged
into rapt contemplation of the act. Dale and I stood at the back of the
box. Suddenly he whispered:
"Come out into the corridor. I've something to say to you."
"Certainly," said I, and followed him out of the box.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked at me with the defiant
and you-be-damned air of the young Briton who was about to commit a
gracious action.
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