the wheels of chance-第5章

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convenience；　there　are　flies。　Until　the　cyclist　can　steer　with　one　hand；　his　face　is　given　over　to　Beelzebub。　Contemplative　flies　stroll　over　it；　and　trifle　absently　with　its　most　sensitive　surfaces。　The　only　way　to　dislodge　them　is　to　shake　the　head　forcibly　and　to　writhe　one's　features　violently。　This　is　not　only　a　lengthy　and　frequently　ineffectual　method；　but　one　exceedingly　terrifying　to　foot　passengers。　And　again；　sometimes　the　beginner　rides　for　a　space　with　one　eye　closed　by　perspiration；　giving　him　a　waggish　air　foreign　to　his　mood　and　ill　calculated　to　overawe　the　impertinent。　However；　you　will　appreciate　now　the　motive　of　Mr。　Hoopdriver's　experiments。　He　presently　attained　sufficient　dexterity　to　slap　himself　smartly　and　violently　in　the　face　with　his　right　hand；　without　certainly　overturning　the　machine；　but　his　pocket　handkerchief　might　have　been　in　California　for　any　good　it　was　to　him　while　he　was　in　the　saddle。　

Yet　you　must　not　think　that　because　Mr。　Hoopdriver　was　a　little　uncomfortable；　he　was　unhappy　in　the　slightest　degree。　In　the　background　of　his　consciousness　was　the　sense　that　about　this　time　Briggs　would　be　half…way　through　his　window　dressing；　and　Gosling；　the　apprentice；　busy；　with　a　chair　turned　down　over　the　counter　and　his　ears　very　red；　trying　to　roll　a　piece　of　huckabackonly　those　who　have　rolled　pieces　of　huckaback　know　quite　how　detestable　huckaback　is　to　rolland　the　shop　would　be　dusty　and；　perhaps；　the　governor　about　and　snappy。　And　here　was　quiet　and　greenery；　and　one　mucked　about　as　the　desire　took　one；　without　a　soul　to　see；　and　here　was　no　wailing　of　〃Sayn；〃　no　folding　of　remnants；　no　voice　to　shout；　〃Hoopdriver；　forward！〃　And　once　he　almost　ran　over　something　wonderful；　a　little；　low；　red　beast　with　a　yellowish　tail；　that　went　rushing　across　the　road　before　him。　It　was　the　first　weasel　he　had　ever　seen　in　his　cockney　life。　There　were　miles　of　this；　scores　of　miles　of　this　before　him；　pinewood　and　oak　forest；　purple；　heathery　moorland　and　grassy　down；　lush　meadows；　where　shining　rivers　wound　their　lazy　way；　villages　with　square…towered；　flint　churches；　and　rambling；　cheap；　and　hearty　inns；　clean；　white；　country　towns；　long　downhill　stretches；　where　one　might　ride　at　one's　ease　（overlooking　a　jolt　or　so）；　and　far　away；　at　the　end　of　it　all；the　sea。　

What　mattered　a　fly　or　so　in　the　dawn　of　these　delights？　Perhaps　he　had　been　dashed　a　minute　by　the　shameful　episode　of　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey；　and　perhaps　the　memory　of　it　was　making　itself　a　little　lair　in　a　corner　of　his　brain　from　which　it　could　distress　him　in　the　retrospect　by　suggesting　that　he　looked　like　a　fool；　but　for　the　present　that　trouble　was　altogether　in　abeyance。　The　man　in　drabevidently　a　swellhad　spoken　to　him　as　his　equal；　and　the　knees　of　his　brown　suit　and　the　chequered　stockings　were　ever　before　his　eyes。　（Or；　rather；　you　could　see　the　stockings　by　carrying　the　head　a　little　to　one　side。）　And　to　feel；　little　by　little；　his　mastery　over　this　delightful；　treacherous　machine；　growing　and　growing！　Every　half…mile　or　so　his　knees　reasserted　themselves；　and　he　dismounted　and　sat　awhile　by　the　roadside。　

It　was　at　a　charming　little　place　between　Esher　and　Cobham；　where　a　bridge　crosses　a　stream；　that　Mr。　Hoopdriver　came　across　the　other　cyclist　in　brown。　It　is　well　to　notice　the　fact　here；　although　the　interview　was　of　the　slightest；　because　it　happened　that　subsequently　Hoopdriver　saw　a　great　deal　more　of　this　other　man　in　brown。　The　other　cyclist　in　brown　had　a　machine　of　dazzling　newness；　and　a　punctured　pneumatic　lay　across　his　knees。　He　was　a　man　of　thirty　or　more；　with　a　whitish　face；　an　aquiline　nose；　a　lank；　flaxen　moustache；　and　very　fair　hair；　and　he　scowled　at　the　job　before　him。　At　the　sight　of　him　Mr。　Hoopdriver　pulled　himself　together；　and　rode　by　with　the　air　of　one　born　to　the　wheel。　〃A　splendid　morning；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　〃and　a　fine　surface。〃　

〃The　morning　and　you　and　the　surface　be　everlastingly　damned！〃　said　the　other　man　in　brown　as　Hoopdriver　receded。　Hoopdriver　heard　the　mumble　and　did　not　distinguish　the　words；　and　he　felt　a　pleasing　sense　of　having　duly　asserted　the　wide　sympathy　that　binds　all　cyclists　together；　of　having　behaved　himself　as　becomes　one　of　the　brotherhood　of　the　wheel。　The　other　man　in　brown　watched　his　receding　aspect。　〃Greasy　proletarian；〃　said　the　other　man　in　brown；　feeling　a　prophetic　dislike。　〃Got　a　suit　of　brown；　the　very　picture　of　this。　One　would　think　his　sole　aim　in　life　had　been　to　caricature　me。　It's　Fortune's　way　with　me。　Look　at　his　insteps　on　the　treadles！　Why　does　Heaven　make　such　men？〃　

And　having　lit　a　cigarette；　the　other　man　in　brown　returned　to　the　business　in　hand。　

Mr。　Hoopdriver　worked　up　the　hill　towards　Cobham　to　a　point　that　he　felt　sure　was　out　of　sight　of　the　other　man　in　brown；　and　then　he　dismounted　and　pushed　his　machine；　until　the　proximity　of　the　village　and　a　proper　pride　drove　him　into　the　saddle　again。



VIII　

Beyond　Cobham　came　a　delightful　incident；　delightful；　that　is；　in　its　beginning　if　a　trifle　indeterminate　in　the　retrospect。　It　was　perhaps　half…way　between　Cobham　and　Ripley。　Mr。　Hoopdriver　dropped　down　a　little　hill；　where；　unfenced　from　the　road；　fine　mossy　trees　and　bracken　lay　on　either　side；　and　looking　up　he　saw　an　open　country　before　him；　covered　with　heather　and　set　with　pines；　and　a　yellow　road　runing　across　it；　and　half　a　mile　away　perhaps；　a　little　grey　figure　by　the　wayside　waving　something　white。　〃Never！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver　with　his　hands　tightening　on　the　handles。　

He　resumed　the　treadles；　staring　away　before　him；　jolted　over　a　stone；　wabbled；　recovered；　and　began　riding　faster　at　once；　with　his　eyes　ahead。　〃It　can't　be；〃　said　Hoopdriver。　

He　rode　his　straightest；　and　kept　his　pedals　spinning；　albeit　a　limp　numbness　had　resumed　possession　of　his　legs。〃　It　CAN'T　be；〃　he　repeated；　feeling　every　moment　more　assured　that　it　WAS。　〃Lord！　I　don't　know　even　now；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver　（legs　awhirling）；　and　then；　〃Blow　my　legs！〃　

But　he　kept　on　and　drew　nearer　and　nearer；　breathing　hard　and　gathering　flies　like　a　flypaper。　In　the　valley　he　was　hidden。　Then　the　road　began　to　rise；　and　the　resistance　of　the　pedals　grew。　As　he　crested　the　hill　he　saw　her；　not　a　hundred　yards　away　from　him。　〃It's　her！〃　he　said。　〃It's　herright　enough。　It's　the　suit's　done　it；〃which　was　truer　even　than　Mr。　Hoopdriver　thought。　But　now　she　was　not　waving　her　handkerchief；　she　was　not　even　looking　at　him。　She　was　wheeling　her　machine　slowly　along　the　road　towards　him；　and　admiring　the　pretty　wooded　hills　towards　Weybridge。　She　might　have　been　unaware　of　his　existence　for　all　the　recognition　he　got。　

For　a　moment　horrible　doubts　troubled　Mr。　Hoopdriver。　Had　that　handkerchief　been　a　dream？　Besides　which　he　was　deliquescent　and　scarlet；　and　felt　so。　It　must　be　her　coquetrythe　handkerchief　was　indisputable。　Should　he　ride　up　to　her　and　get　off；　or　get　off　and　ride　up　to　her？　It　was　as　well　she　didn't　look；　because　he　would　certainly　capsize　if　he　lifted　his　cap。　Perhaps　that　was　her　consideration。　Even　as　he　hesitated　he　was　upon　her。　She　must　have　heard　his　breathing。　He　gripped　the　brake。　Steady！　His　right　leg　waved　in　the　air；　and　he　came　down　heavily　and　staggering；　but　erect。　She　turned　her　eyes　upon　him　with　admirable　surprise。　

Mr。　Hoopdriver　tried　to　smile　pleasantly；　hold　up　his　machine；　raise　his　cap；　and　bow　gracefully。　Indeed；　he　felt　that　he　did　as　much。　He　was　a　man　singularly　devoid　of　the　minutiae　of　self…consciousness；　and　he　was　quite　unaware　of　a　tail　of　damp　hair　lying　across　his　forehead；　and　just　clearing　his　eyes；　and　of　the　general　disorder　of　his　coiffure。　There　was　an　interrogative　pause。　

〃What　can　I　have　the　pleasure〃　began　Mr。　Haopdriver；　insinuatingly。　〃I　mean〃　（remembering　his　emancipation　and　abruptly　assuming　his　most　aristocratic　intonation）；　〃can　I　be　of　any　assistance　to　you？〃　

The　Young　Lady　in　Grey　bit　her　lower　lip　and　said　very　prettily；　〃None；　thank　you。〃　She　glanced　away　from　him　and　made　as　if　she　would　proceed。　

〃Oh！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　taken　aback　and　suddenly　crestfallen　again。　It　was　so　unexpected。　He　tried　to　grasp　the　situation。　Was　she　coquetting？　Or　had　he？　

〃Excuse　me；　one　minute；〃　he　said；　as　she　began　to　wheel　her　machine　again。　

〃Yes？〃　she　said；　stopping　and　staring　a　little；　with　the　colour　in　her　cheeks　deepening。　

〃I　should　not　have　alighted　if　I　had　notimagined　that　youer；　waved　something　white〃　He　paused。　

She　looked　at　him　doubtfully。　He　HAD　seen　it！　She　decided　that　he　was　not　an　unredeemed　rough　taking　advantage　of　a　mistake；　but　an　innocent　soul　meaning　well　while　seeking　happiness。　〃I　DID　wave　my　handkerchief；〃　she　said。　〃I'm　very　sorry。　I　am　expectinga　friend；　a　gentleman；〃she　seemed　to　flush　pink　for　a　minute。　〃He　is　riding　a　bicycle　and　dressed　inin　brown；　and　at　a　distance；　you　know〃　

〃Oh；　quite！〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　bearing　up　in　manly　fashion　against　his　bitter　disappointment。　〃Certainly。〃　

〃I'm　awfully　sorry；　you　know。　Troubling　you　to　dismount；　and　all　that。〃　

〃No　trouble。　'Ssure　you；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　mechanically　and　bowing　over　his　saddle　as　if　it　was　a　counter。　Somehow　he　could　not　find　it　in　his　heart　to　tell　her　that　the　man　was　beyond　there　with　a　punctured　pneumatic。　He　looked　back　along　the　road　and　tried　to　think　of　something　else　to　say。　But　the　gulf　in　the　conversation　widened　rapidly　and　hopelessly。　〃There's　nothing　further；〃　began　Mr。　Hoopdriver　desperately；　recurring　to　his　stock　of　cliches。　

〃Nothing；　thank　you；〃　she　said　decisively。　And　immediately；　〃This　IS　the　Ripley　road？〃　

〃Certainly；〃　said　Mr。　Hoopdriver。　〃Ripley　is　about　two　miles　from　here。　According　to　the　mile…stones。〃　

〃Thank　you；〃　she　said　warmly。　〃Thank　you　so　much。　I　felt　sure　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　disapprovedthat　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　COUL