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The motor! cried Mr. Barstowe. Ah, Rossiter, that is the very poetry of motion. I never ride in a motor- car without those words of Shakespeares ringing in my mind: Ill put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes. I shouldnt give way to that sort of thing if I were you, said Martin. The police are pretty down on road- hogging in these parts. Mr. Barstowe was speaking figuratively, said Elsa, with disdain. Was he? grunted Martin, whose sorrows were tending to make him every day more like a sulky schoolboy. Im afraid I havent a poetic soul. Im afraid you havent, said Elsa. There was a brief silence. A bird made itself heard in a neighbouring tree. The moan of doves in immemorial elms, quoted Mr. Barstowe, softly. Only it happens to be a crow in a beech, said Martin, as the bird flew out. Elsas chin tilted itself in scorn. Martin turned on his heel and walked away. Its the wrong way, sir; its the wrong way, said a voice. I was hobserving you from a window, sir. Its Lady Angelica over again. Hopposition is useless, believe me, sir. Martin faced round, flushed and wrathful. The butler went on, unmoved: Miss Elsa is going for a ride in the car to-day, sir. I know that. Uncommonly tricky things, these motor-cars. I was saying so to Robert, the chauffeur, just as soon as I eard Miss Elsa was going out with Mr. Barstowe. I said, Roberts, these cars is tricky; break down when youre twenty miles from hanywhere as soon as look at you. Roberts, I said, slipping him a sovereign, ow awful it would be if the car should break down twenty miles from hanywhere to-day! Martin stared. You bribed Roberts to Sir! I gave Roberts the sovereign because I am sorry for him. He is a poor man, and has a wife and family to support. Very well, said Martin, sternly; I shall go and warn Miss Keith. Warn her, sir! I shall tell her that you have bribed Roberts to make the car break down so that Keggs shook his head. I fear she would hardly credit the statement, sir. She might even think that you was trying to keep her from going for your own pussonal ends. I believe youre the devil, said Martin. I ope you will come to look on me, sir, said Keggs, unctuously, as your good hangel. |
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