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as Armida, but with a chubbiness that had its own undeniable attractions. Whatever passed between them I know not; I only know that when they looked back towards me, the ice had slightly melted.
    â€˜Perhaps your crisis will allow you time to drink chocolate with us,’ Armida said in a voice freighted with light musics.
    Gratefully, I sat down. ‘Five minutes only … Then urgent business must take me elsewhere. You were enjoying the exhibition?’
    â€˜It’s tolerably familiar to us,’ said Armida, waving a dismissive hand. ‘What is your crisis, sir? You have us agog, as I expect you intend.’
    â€˜We all confront crises in our lives …’ But that would not do. ‘My father,’ I said, thinking quickly, ‘he’s a stern man. He is forcing me to decide my future career. I have to tell him by the week’s end whether I will enter the Army or the High Religion.’
    â€˜I’m sure your heart’s pure enough for the Church,’ said Armida, smiling with enough warmth to cook an egg. ‘Is it not brave enough for the Army?’
    â€˜My dilemma is that I wish as a good son to please my father, but I want to become something more fulfilling than a monk or a grenadier.’
    Two pretty heads went to one side as they gazed upon me. My head was turned completely.
    â€˜Why not,’ said the brown-haired one, ‘become a player? It’s a terribly varied career which gives pleasure to many.’
    My hopes rose within me, so much so that I reached forward and seized her hand where it lay on the table. ‘How kind of you to suggest it!’
    Armida said, ‘Pooh, not a player! They’re poor and the stories they play out are dull … It’s the lowest form of animal life! There’s no advancement in it.’
    The effect of this speech from those lips was enough to cool my blood by several degrees, down almost to frost level. Matters were only saved by Armida’s leaning forward and adding, confidingly, ‘Bedalar’s latest fancy is a player – he’s handsome, grant you that – so she thinks nothing male is of any use unless it basks before the limelights every evening at seven.’
    Bedalar put out a pretty tongue at her friend. ‘You’re only jealous!’
    Armida showed her an even prettier tongue back. I could have watched such rivalry all evening, while thinking how cordially I would receive that nimble little tongue into my own cheek. So involved were my senses that only later did Bedalar’s name register on me; I had heard it before that day.
    Armida’s air of imparting a confidence had soothed me, but there was a chill in the conversation, as the two girls gazed at each other and I gazed moodily at them.
    Fortunately, chocolate arrived in a silver pot, and we occupied ourselves with drinking.
    Setting down her cup, Bedalar announced that she must leave.
    â€˜We all know whom you’re going to meet, so don’t be coy,’ said Armida. Turning to me as her friend left, she said, ‘The new-found player. He’s out of work, so they can enjoy a rendezvous at any old time that Bedalar’s chaperon is out of sight. I have a friend of high connection – one must not say whom – who is involved with his duty today, and many other days as well.’
    I thought this was more unkindness and said, ‘Perhaps you wish me to leave …’
    â€˜You may go or stay as you like. I didn’t invite you to sit down.’
    It was no good sulking before this little minx. ‘I came voluntarily, yes; I now find myself unable to leave voluntarily. I am already under such a spell as it would take a dozen gentlemen of connection, drunk or sober’ – I thought I’d strike there – ‘to disperse.’
    She half-pouted, half-laughed.
    â€˜How silly I shall look on the street with you running behind my carriage. And you even sillier, following