The Christmas Victory

It was one thirty in the morning by the time they thought to say goodbye. As he stood looking at her at the doorstep, he bowed and asked: “Will I see you again, mam?”

She smiled. “I dearly hope so. Say, there’s a reading tomorrow afternoon by that English author, Charles Dickens. I was thinking of having brother Charles take me, but he’s not really into such things—thinks their rather stuffy.”

Mark’s eyes lit up. “I’d be glad to take you, Miss Olivia. What time is the reading?”

“I believe it’s at three in the afternoon.”

“Well, why don’t I pick you up at one? That way we could grab a bite to eat on the way.

“I think that’s a splendid idea.”

******

He didn’t get much sleep that night for thinking of her and anticipating the morrow’s date. But he finally dozed off and woke up at the stroke of noon.

The meeting hall was crowded with people, but, arriving early, they managed to find a seat fairly near the front. Soon the curtain opened and there in the middle of the stage stood a stocky old gentleman with white hair. “I thought he’d be taller.” observed Mark to Olivia.

“Shhhhh!” She shushed him. “He’s about to begin.” she whispered.

He slowly inched to her, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Dickens read from his novel “Oliver Twist.” The story was interesting but he had a hard time concentrating with the beautiful Olivia beside him. He tried to look straight at the figure on the stage while looking out of the corner of his eye at her seated beside him.