Midnight
Saturday afternoon , to Hampstead or the Hippodrome with Flossie Walker , the little clerk , who lived in his boarding-house and never had any fun to speak of . Saturday night , supper with -- well , with Miss Poppy Grace of the Jubilee Variety Theatre . He had a sudden vision of Poppy as he was wont to meet her in delightful intimacy , instantaneously followed by her image that flaunted on the posters out there in the Strand , Poppy as she appeared behind the foot-lights , in red silk skirts and black silk stockings , skimming , whirling , swaying , and deftly shaking her foot at him . Midnight and morning merging into one . Sunday , to Richmond , probably , with Poppy and some others . Monday , up the river with Himself . Not for worlds , that is to say , not for any amount of Poppies , would he have broken his appointment with that brilliant and yet inscrutable companion who is so eternally fascinating at twenty-three .