MISS MATFIELD'S NEW YEAR 457

—at High-gate—'Oh, I go weet your foreign friend to
movees/ Flora comes to me and we have a beeg
quarrel." He squeezed Miss Matfield's hand as if he felt
that at this point he must have sympathy or die. "Yes, a
beeg quarrel. For two veeks, I do not see Flora at all.
I am vairy saad now.'1

Miss Matfield said it was rather sad, but told herself
that in its mixture of Highgate and foreign-ness it was
really quite absurd and wonderlandish, and somehow it
gave the key to the whole evening. Nobody in this
studio, except herself and Mr, Golspie (and she was
not sure about him), was quite real. Something-insky
and his friends were very charming, but it was rather a
relief when Mr. Golspie marched up? very solid and
dominating, and said: "Well, what about a dance with
me?"

"Of course/' she told him. "I thought perhaps you
didn't dance. You've not been dancing, have you?"

"No. I thought I'd wait for you, Miss Matfield.
You're the partner I want. I can dance all right, but,
mind you, I don't pretend to be good at it, not like some
of these lads. Have another drink before we start,
eh?"

"If I have another drink to-night, I shall probably be
quite drunk. I feel hazy now/*

"No harm in feeling hazier. I'll look after you, don't
you worry."

But she shook her head. The music started again, the
little Jew wagging his black locks over the piano and his
companion solemnly nodding above his drums, and Mr.
Golspie grasped her masterfully. He was obviously not
a very good dancer, but even if he had been, there would
not have been much chance for him to show what he