How nicely she spoke too! nice clear-cut words! She made him feel what slush his own accent was. And that last silly remark. What was it?—'Not being the other gentleman, you know!' No point in it. And 'gentleman!' What could she be thinking of him?
But really the Young Lady in Grey had dismissed Hoopdriver from her thoughts almost before he had vanished round the corner. She had thought no ill of him. His manifest awe and admiration of her had given her not an atom of offence. But for her just now there were weightier things to think about, things that would affect all the rest of her life. She continued slowly walking her machine Londonward. Presently she stopped. "Oh! Why doesn't he come?" she said, and stamped her foot petulantly. Then, as if in answer, coming down the hill among the trees, appeared the other man in brown, dismounted and wheeling his machine.
