This is how it’s supposed to feel.
The moment he saw her, Albert’s banjo went quite out of tune and he was obliged to readjust it before inquiring of such a beautiful creature whether she would like to take part in a short “jam”, as he was wont to call his brief paroxysms of musical joy.
The lady knew from the moment she saw his glorious mustache society would judge them, but she did not care. After all did she not run away from home every day to practice secretly in the wheat fields her instrument? She chose this fate. Perhaps he could show her his banjo to be accepted into the strange group of people they call, “hipsters”
Banjonalities from George Du Maurier, from English society, New York, 1897.
