Publisher's Synopsis
I am eight years older now. It had never occurred to me that I am advancing in lifeand experience until, in setting myself to recall the various details of the affair, Isuddenly remembered my timid confusion before the haughty mien of the clerk atKeith Prowse's.I had asked him: "Have you any amphitheatre seats for the Opera to-night?"He did not reply. He merely put his lips together and waved his hand slowly fromside to side.Not perceiving, in my simplicity, that he was thus expressing a sublime pity for theignorance which my demand implied, I innocently proceeded: "Nor balcony?"This time he condescended to speak."Noth-ing, sir."Then I understood that what he meant was: "Poor fool! why don't you ask for themoon?"I blushed. Yes, I blushed before the clerk at Keith Prowse's, and turned to leave theshop. I suppose he thought that as a Christian it was his duty to enlighten mypitiable darkness."It's the first Rosa night to-night," he said with august affability. "I had a couple ofstalls this morning, but I've just sold them over the telephone for six pound ten
