SLIP OF THE TONGUE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 138, 12 June 1936, Page 17

SLIP OF THE TONGUE.

By COLIN HOWARD.

I WAS returning liome late after a dance. I walked along the Victoria Embankment with the intention of catching a tram, but the night was so line, and the air so pleasant after the heat of the ballroom, that I sat down for a few minutes. On the seat I chose a man was huddled, dozing. He looked up as I seated myself, and I saw he belonged to that vast company of human flotsam and jetsam which, however it may drift during the daytime, is always mysteriously washed up on the Embankment at night. On an impulse,' I offered him a cigarette. I felt, a quite unreasonable shock of surprise, when he accepted it in what is commonly called,an educated voice. We talked a little. Presently, with the sublime arrogance of case talking to poverty, I suggested he must have a story. He laughed bitterly. "I was waiting for that;!" he said. "Why is it, I wonder, that any man in my position who talks without ail accent is supposed to hold some wonderful story'! Look along there." He indicated the stretch of seats, each bearing its, burden of humanity. "They have all been as iipfortunate as I—perhaps more so. Yet, because they drop then aspirates, and I don't, people think that I must have the most romantic history." "I'm sorry," I said, contritely, and I was sorry. "Please forgive iny clumsiI lieso."

He inclined his head courteously. We talked further and with, I felt, a better understanding. With a sudden gesture, he threw away his cigarette. "If you really want to know what I'm doing here," he said, abruptly, "I'll tell you. I lost my incentive." "Your incentive?" "My wife." "Oh, lord, how rotten! Was it . . ." "I don't mean that way," he interrupted me. "It was like this. I was a commissioned officer during the war. When I was 'demobbed' —well, my occupation was gone. I'd got married during one fourteen-days' leave. So many of us did that during the war, you know, and a lot of us regretted it later, but I didn't. Paulino was rather wonderful, and she —helped me. "It's extraordinary how unfitted for anything useful an ex-officer is! You get wrong ideas of living, too —wrong standards. When the war came to an end I managed to get a pretty good job, but I couldn't hold it. "We enjoyed ourselves while it lasted, without afly thought of the future. When I was fired from that I floated into a series of jobs, each one not quite so good as the previous one. But they were all most respectable, as was right for an ex-officer, and we still didn't worry.

"But a few years ago I struck a really bad'patch. I just couldn't get a decent job of any kind. You know yourself what sort" of a world it was in the 'twenties for an ex-officer trying to get work. Besides, I wasn't more than ordinarily efficient at anything. "I hadn't had any specialised training. But I still thought 110 small beer of myself, and turned up my nose at any job that didn't carry a black coat witn it. Only jobs like that were really scarce. I know, because I really was trying. "That was where Pauline came in. Without her, I daresay, I should have been tempted to drift, without making any effort. But—iyell, if somebody who matters has confidence in you, you've just got to have confidence in yourself. "I was out of work three years! Three vears! Think what that means to a married man. There weren't any children, and I'd never expected to thank God for it. I'd only my pension, and how we managed to keep going on that I don't know—and even that's gone now.

"Towards tho end of that three years I felt there wasn't a job going I'd have refused. My ridiculous pride about taking a'job beneath me went by the board. But I couldn't find a job of any description.

"Pauline was a marvellous manager, or we could never have managed. She had the trick of making every halfpenny go as far as a halfpenny possibly could. We lived in a tiny room Poplar way, and I give you my word, life wasn't anything to write home about. "Pauline was the only thing that made it tolerable for me. She was my incentive to keep on trying. Because of her, I never threw up the sponge. Often, though, I could have wept to think of the awful time she was having, poor girl"That was why, for lier sake, I was pleased when she told me that'her Aunt Mary had come round a little. Her aunt had been very displeased at our marriage, and would never have anything to do with us. I'd only seen her once, when she made herself so offensive that I wasn't in a hurry to see her again. "But Paulino told me that her aunt had written to her saying that she felt she was getting old, and she'd be glad if Pauline would come and spend a few days with her. now and again. Only, Aunt Mary p.dded, she declined to see the man who'd induced her to make such an imprudent marriage. » • * »

"Pauline was awfully indignant at that, and wanted to ignore the letter. Well, I was indignant, too, but I swallowed it. I said, of course, she must do as her aunt wished. You see, we— we weren't eating too well on my pension, and I knew what an occasional day or two of good living would do for Pauline. ••

"In the end, I- persuaded Pauline to agree to the old lady's wishes, and, after that, she often used to take a few days' holiday with her aunt. I missed her terribly—l'd got to rely on her so, I felt absolutely lost without her—but it was worth it, just to see how well and bright she'd look when she came home to 1110 again—colour in her cheeks and that tired look gone from her oy.es. "She was very kind to me during those three years, Pauline was —very kind and sweet. There was never a reproach from her. In fact, I only remember having words with her once, when it seemed to me she must be spending more on clothes than we could possibly afford. , "Poor girl, she must have longed to wear nice things —men don't feel that sort of thing so much. It was a pair of lizardskin shoes she'd bought, I remember. They must have been expensive Shoes. They were . pretty, and they suited her tiny feet to perfection, and it made me the more sharp with her because I couldn't afford to give her such

"However, she explained that she'd 1 got them for less than half-price because of fionie flaw in the making. She showed me how the tongue in one of the shoes had been sewn in upside down. Of course, the price was still too much to have "iveii but I couldn't say any more.

(SHORT STORY.)

"All this time, I was getting just desperate for work. There's nothing worse for the morale, let alone any otheri reason, than being out of work. Then I struck lucky, and managed to land a job. | It wasn't by any means the sort of job I liked doin' —I told you I had my share] of dam'-fool pride—but, because of Pauline, I took it. * ♦ • * "I had to work all through the night. Somehow, I couldn't tell Pauline what it was. I just couldn't. I told her I was working in an oliicc, though what sort of an office it was that worked at night must have puzzled her. I stuck the work for a month, though I hated itit was so different from what I was used to. Then —I lost my incentive. "It was one bright Saturday. Pauline was in good spirits. She told me she'd had a note from her Aunt Mary, asking her for the week-end, and I saw her leave the house. She turned at the corner of the street to wave to me."

The man at my side dropped into silence. A night tram rumbled eerily past, behind our backs. He shivered deeply, and turned up his collar at the sudden cold draught. • • • » "Well?" I pressed gently. "What happened ?" "What happened?" he said. "Oh, I went to work as usual, that night. I suppose I'm a pretty spineless sort of individual. I just couldn't carry on when I found I'd lost my incentive, it knocked me. And here I am." "But how did you lo3e your incentive?" "I didn't tell Pauline' what my job was because I was foolish, enough to be ashamed of it. It -was the job of 'boots' at p. big hotel the other side of London. I started on my rounds as usual, that night, when everybody had gone to bed. Outside practically the first door I came to wero two pairs of shoes. One pair ■was a man's. The other was a tiny pair of dainty, lizardskin shoes. One shoe had the tongue stitched in upsidedown. . .