ll the blinkin' fife; there's a cyciclist on the horizon.
For-rard!"

To sound the horn would have been a work of supererogation. Maddened
by our vociferous exuberance, Nobby lifted up his voice and barked like
a demoniac. The ungodly hullaballoo with which we shook the dust of
Bordeaux from off our tires will be remembered fearfully by all who
witnessed our exit from that city.

When I had indulged my excitement, I left the terrier and Berry to
finish the latter's lunch and turned to my wife.

Sitting there, with her little hands about the wheel, she made a
bewitching picture. She had thrown her fur coat open, and the breeze
from the open window was playing greedily with the embroidery about her
throat. Her soft hair, too, was now at the wind's mercy, and but for a
little suede hat, which would have suited Rosalind, the dark strand
that lay flickering upon her cheek would have been one of many. Chin
in air, eyebrows raised, lids lowered, the faintest of smiles hovering
about her small red mouth, my lady leaned back with an indescribable
air of easy efficiency which was most attractive. Only the parted lips
at all betrayed her eagerness....

I felt very proud suddenly.

The road was vile, but Pong flew over it without a tremor. Looking
upon his driver, I found it difficult to appreciate that a small
silk-stockinged foot I could not see was setting and maintaining his
beautiful steady pace.

As I stared at her, marvelling, the smile deepened, and a little gloved
hand left the wheel and stole into mine.

I pulled the glove back and kissed the white wrist....

"And I was going to teach you," I said humbly.

"So was I," wailed Berry. "I'd arranged everything. I was going to be
so patient."

"I was looking forward to it so much," I said wistfully.

"Oh, and don't you think I was?" cried Adele. "It was so dear of you,
lad. I was going to pretend----"

"It was much more dearer of me," said Berry. "But then, I'm like that.
Of course," he added, "you ought to have driven from Boulogne. Don't
tell me why you held your peace, because I know. And I think it was
just sweet of you, darling, and, but for your husband's presence, I
should kiss you by force."

The car fled on.

There was little traffic, but thrice we came upon cows and once upon a
large flock of sheep. We could only pray that Jonah had endured the
same trials.

As we slid through Langon, thirty miles distant from Bordeaux, I looked
at