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there was no mistake. And I really am awfully sorry--"



"Don't mention it," said Mr. Hoopdriver. "Don't mention it." He

hesitated and gripped his handles to mount. "It's me," he said,



"ought to be sorry." Should he say it? Was it an impertinence?

Anyhow!--"Not being the other gentleman, you know."



He tried a quietly insinuating smile that he knew for a grin even

as he smiled it; felt she disapproved--that she despised him, was



overcome with shame at her expression, turned his back upon her,

and began (very clumsily) to mount. He did so with a horrible



swerve, and went pedalling off, riding very badly, as he was only

too painfully aware. Nevertheless, thank Heaven for the mounting!



He could not see her because it was so dangerous for him to look

round, but he could imagine her indignant and pitiless. He felt



an unspeakable idiot. One had to be so careful what one said to

Young Ladies, and he'd gone and treated her just as though she



was only a Larky Girl. It was unforgivable. He always WAS a fool.

You could tell from her manner she didn't think him a gentleman.



One glance, and she seemed to look clear through him and all his

presence. What rot it was venturing to speak to a girl like that!



With her education she was bound to see through him at once.

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.

HOW MR. HOOPDRIVER WAS HAUNTED



IX

As Mr. Hoopdriver rode swaggering along the Ripley road, it came



to him, with an unwarrantable sense of comfort, that he had seen

the last of the Young Lady in Grey. But the ill-concealed bladery



of the machine, the present machinery of Fate, the deus ex

machina, so to speak, was against him. The bicycle, torn from



this attractive young woman, grew heavier and heavier, and

continually more unsteady. It seemed a choice between stopping at



Ripley or dying in the flower of his days. He went into the

Unicorn, after propping his machine outside the door, and, as he



cooled down and smoked his Red Herring cigarette while the cold

meat was getting ready, he saw from the window the Young Lady in



Grey and the other man in brown, entering Ripley.

They filled him with apprehension by looking at the house which



sheltered him, but the sight of his bicycle, propped in a drunk

and incapable attitude against the doorway, humping its rackety



mud-guard and leering at them with its darkened lantern eye,

drove them away--so it seemed to Mr. Hoopdriver--to the spacious



swallow of the Golden Dragon. The young lady was riding very

slowly, but the other man in brown had a bad puncture and was



wheeling his machine. Mr. Hoopdriver noted his flaxen moustache,

his aquiline nose, his rather bent shoulders, with a sudden,



vivid dislike.

The maid at the Unicorn is naturally a pleasant girl, but she is



jaded by the incessant incidence of cyclists, and Hoopdriver's

mind, even as he conversed with her in that cultivated voice of



his--of the weather, of the distance from London, and of the

excellence of the Ripley road--wandered to the incomparable



freshness and brilliance of the Young Lady in Grey. As he sat at

meat he kept turning his head to the window to see what signs



there were of that person, but the face of the Golden Dragon

displayed no appreciation of the delightfulmorsel it had



swallowed. As an incidental consequence of this distraction, Mr.

Hoopdriver was for a minute greatly inconvenienced by a mouthful






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