He came over once or twice, but fell on his foot each
time, and perceived that he was improving. Before he got to
Bramley a specious byway snapped him up, ran with him for half a
mile or more, and dropped him as a terrier drops a walkingstick,
upon the Portsmouth again, a couple of miles from Godalming. He
entered Godalming on his feet, for the road through that
delightful town is beyond dispute the vilest in the world, a mere
tumult of road metal, a way of peaks and precipices, and, after a
successful experiment with cider at the Woolpack, he pushed on to
Milford.
All this time he was acutely aware of the existence of the Young
Lady in Grey and her companion in brown, as a child in the dark
is of Bogies. Sometimes he could hear their pneumatics stealing
upon him from behind, and looking round saw a long stretch of
vacant road. Once he saw far ahead of him a glittering wheel, but
it proved to be a workingman riding to destruction on a very tall
ordinary. And he felt a curious, 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.
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