d 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 her--right 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 coquetry--the 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