us, vague
uneasiness about that Young Lady in Grey, for which he was altogether
unable to account. Now that he was awake he had forgotten that
accentuated Miss Beaumont that had been quite clear in his dream. But
the curious dream conviction, that the girl was not really the man's
sister, would not let itself be forgotten. Why, for instance, should a
man want to be alone with his sister on the top of a tower? At Milford
his bicycle made, so to speak, an ass of itself. A finger-post suddenly
jumped out at him, vainly indicating an abrupt turn to the right,
and Mr. Hoopdriver would have slowed up and read the inscription, but
no!--the bicycle would not let him. The road dropped a little into
Milford, and the thing shied, put down its head and bolted, and Mr.
Hoopdriver only thought of the brake when the fingerpost was passed.
Then to have recovered the point of intersection would have meant
dismounting. For as yet there was no road wide enough for Mr. Hoopdriver
to turn in. So he went on his way--or to be precise, he did exactly the
opposite thing. The road to the right was the Portsmouth road, and this
he was on went to Haslemere and Midhurst. By that error it came about
that he once more came upon his fellow travellers of yesterday, coming
on them suddenly, without the slightest preliminary announcement and
when they least expected it, under the Southwestern Railway arch. "It's
horrible," said a girlish voice; "it's brutal--cowardly--" And stopped.

His expression, as he shot out from the archway at them, may have been
something between a grin of recognition and a scowl of annoyance at
himself for the unintentional intrusion. But disconcerted as he was, he
was yet able to appreciate something of the peculiarity of their mutual
attitudes. The bicycles were lying by the roadside, and the two riders
stood face to face. The other man in brown's attitude, as it flashed
upon Hoopdriver, was a deliberate pose; he twirled his moustache and
smiled faintly, and he was conscientiously looking amused. And the girl
stood rigid, her arms straight by her side, her handkerchief clenched in
her hand, and her face was flushed, with the faintest touch of red upon
her eyelids. She seemed to Mr. Hoopdriver's sense to be indignant. But
that was the impression of a second. A mask of surprised recognition
fell across this revelation of emotion as she turned her head towards
him, and the pose of the other man in brown vanished too in a momentary