voice behind us, 'Oh, Romeo, I'm Juliet. Wherefore art thou, Romeo?'
Mrs. Tomasino in the tight pink satin was positively wriggling with delight and satisfaction. Mr. de Vere Smith de Vere stood aghast. In a trice he was appropriated. A big, fat brown arm was thrust through his, and he was led away.
All of us who were still left in the room paused to watch them pass. It was Mrs. Tomasino's night out. She was conscious that for the moment she held the stage. It intoxicated her. But the doorway loomed near. She could not let her triumph rest, she must add to it. Beaming round she stopped and tapped the unhappy Mr. de Vere Smith de Vere playfully on the arm with her fan.
'Oh, Romeo,' she smirked, wriggling horribly inside the pink satin, 'do you really wish you were thy Juliet's bird?'
After that they kind of shot through the doorway. I guess it was Mr. de Vere Smith de Vere who put the impetus on. Anything more complete than that young man's discomfiture one couldn't wish to see. He crumpled up and got limp straight away. It was as if you had suddenly sprinkled a nice starched collar and shirt front with water. It was a dreadful warning to all would-be Romeos. However charming you may think yourselves, young men, don't make too sure of Juliet.
