As an incidental consequence of this distraction, Mr.
Hoopdriver was for a minute greatly inconvenienced by a mouthful
of mustard. After he had called for his reckoning he went, his
courage being high with meat and mustard, to the door, intending
to stand, with his legs wide apart and his hands deep in his
pockets, and stare boldly across the road. But just then the
other man in brown appeared in the gateway of the Golden Dragon
yard--it is one of those delightful inns that date from the
coaching days--wheeling his punctured machine. He was taking it
to Flambeau's, the repairer's. He looked up and saw Hoopdriver,
stared for a minute, and then scowled darkly.
But Hoopdriver remained stoutly in the doorway until the other
man in brown had disappeared into Flambeau's. Then he glanced
momentarily at the Golden Dragon, puckered his mouth into a
whistle of unconcern, and proceeded to wheel his machine into the
road until a sufficient margin for mounting was secured.
Now, at that time, I say, Hoopdriver was rather desirous than not
of seeing no more of the Young Lady in Grey. The other man in
brown he guessed was her brother, albeit that person was of a
pallid fairness, differing essentially from her rich colouring;
and, besides, he felt he had made a hopeless fool of himself. But
the afternoon was against him, intolerably hot, especially on the
top of his head, and the virtue had gone out of his legs to
digest his cold meat, and altogether his ride to Guildford was
exceedingly intermittent.
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