It happened in the rummest way.

I was brought behind the scenes one night by a Cambridge chum.

We were painting the town a bit red.

We were not exactly drunk; but we were not particularly sober either; and I was very green at that time, and made a fool of myself about Lalage: staring; clapping like a madman in the middle of her songs; getting into the way of everybody and everything, and so on.

Then a couple of fellows we knew turned up, and we got chatting at the wing with some girls.