"I hope he won't get hurt."
"That was Mr. Dangle," repeated Jessie, and Mr. Hoopdriver heard
this time, with a violent start. His eyebrows went up
spasmodically.
"What! someone you know?"
"Yes."
"Lord!"
"He was looking for me," said Jessie. "I could see. He began to
call to me before the horse shied. My stepmother has sent him."
Mr. Hoopdriver wished he had returned the bicycle after all, for
his ideas were still a little hazy about Bechamel and Mrs.
Milton. Honesty IS the best policy--often, he thought. He turned
his head this way and that. He became active. "After us, eigh?
Then he'll come back. He's gone down that hill, and he won't be
able to pull up for a bit, I'm certain."
Jessie, he saw, had wheeled her machine into the road and was
mounting. Still staring at the corner that had swallowed up
Dangle, Hoopdriver followed suit. And so, just as the sun was
setting, they began another flight together,--riding now towards
Bishops Waltham, with Mr. Hoopdriver in the post of danger--the
rear--ever and again looking over his shoulder and swerving
dangerously as he did so. Occasionally Jessie had to slacken her
pace. He breathed heavily, and hated himself because his mouth
fell open, After nearly an hour's hard riding, they found
themselves uncaught at Winchester. Not a trace of Dangle nor any
other danger was visible as they rode into the dusky, yellow-lit
street. Though the bats had been fluttering behind thehedges and
the evening star was bright while they were still two miles from
Winchester, Mr.
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