Love at the Sound of a Bell

More about Love at the Sound of a Bell

He attended a speed-dating evening in Shanghai because somebody had assured him that love was available in five-minute installments. His previous method had required several years to arrive at the same disappointment.

The company resembled a watercolor whose inhabitants had been assembled to hear the terms of a will. Ladies in pink, blue, and vermilion sat among gentlemen wearing the expressions of men who had lent money to relatives. One woman tilted her face toward the ceiling, perhaps seeking romance by a less congested route.

A bell rang.

His first companion asked whether he owned an apartment.

“I possess a considerable quantity of opinions.”

She made a small mark on her card. He could not read it, but felt certain it had disposed of him completely.

The second lady asked about his prospects.

“Excellent. He has survived every misfortune so far.”

He corrected himself. The proceedings had already made him feel like somebody being discussed in his absence.

“Financial prospects,” she said.

“Ah. Those have not survived.”

The bell rescued her.

Across the room stood a silver-haired gentleman in green, looking admirably solvent. He received three smiles without moving a muscle. There are men who cultivate charm, and men whose jackets do the agricultural work.

His third companion asked what he sought in a wife.

“Someone who understands me.”

She studied him so seriously that he began to fear success.

“And if she does?”

“I should probably have to leave the country.”

She laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, entirely without commercial purpose. He was preparing to deserve another when the bell rang.

The organizer waved him onward. Love might be eternal, but it must not interfere with the seating plan.

By the sixth interview he had become efficient. He announced his income, defects, and doubtful future before sitting down. By the eighth he could disappoint a woman in under forty seconds. There was no prize for this, although several faces suggested one ought to be established.

At last the lady who had laughed found him beside the refreshments.

“Do you own an apartment?” she asked.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

This was the first thing they had in common, and already it covered a considerable amount of ground.

They went out into Shanghai, where the buildings glittered with all the confidence lacking inside them.

Behind them the bell kept ringing.

Neither turned around. For the first time that evening, he had something to say and no particular wish to say it quickly.