He　tried　a　quietly　insinuating　smile　that　he　knew　for　a　grin　even　as　he　smiled　it；　felt　she　disapprovedthat　she　despised　him；　was　overcome　with　shame　at　her　expression；　turned　his　back　upon　her；　and　began　（very　clumsily）　to　mount。　He　did　so　with　a　horrible　swerve；　and　went　pedalling　off；　riding　very　badly；　as　he　was　only　too　painfully　aware。　Nevertheless；　thank　Heaven　for　the　mounting！　He　could　not　see　her　because　it　was　so　dangerous　for　him　to　look　round；　but　he　could　imagine　her　indignant　and　pitiless。　He　felt　an　unspeakable　idiot。　One　had　to　be　so　careful　what　one　said　to　Young　Ladies；　and　he'd　gone　and　treated　her　just　as　though　she　was　only　a　Larky　Girl。　It　was　unforgivable。　He　always　WAS　a　fool。　You　could　tell　from　her　manner　she　didn't　think　him　a　gentleman。　One　glance；　and　she　seemed　to　look　clear　through　him　and　all　his　presence。　What　rot　it　was　venturing　to　speak　to　a　girl　like　that！　With　her　education　she　was　bound　to　see　through　him　at　once。
  How　nicely　she　spoke　too！　nice　clear…cut　words！　She　made　him　feel　what　slush　his　own　accent　was。　And　that　last　silly　remark。　What　was　it　？　'Not　being　the　other　gentleman；　you　know！'　No　point　in　it。　And　'GENTLEMAN！'　What　COULD　she　be　thinking　of　him？
  But　really　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey　had　dismissed　Hoopdriver　from　her　thoughts　almost　before　he　had　vanished　round　the　corner。　She　had　thought　no　ill　of　him。　His　manifest　awe　and　admiration　of　her　had　given　her　not　an　atom　of　offence。　But　for　her　just　now　there　were　weightier　things　to　think　about；　things　that　would　affect　all　the　rest　of　her　life。　She　continued　slowly　walking　her　machine　Londonward。　Presently　she　stopped。　〃Oh！　Why　DOESN'T　he　come？〃　she　said；　and　stamped　her　foot　petulantly。　Then；　as　if　in　answer；　coming　down　the　hill　among　the　trees；　appeared　the　other　man　in　brown；　dismounted　and　wheeling　his　machine。
  HOW　MR。　HOOPDRIVER　WAS　HAUNTED
  IX
  As　Mr。　Hoopdriver　rode　swaggering　along　the　Ripley　road；　it　came　to　him；　with　an　unwarrantable　sense　of　comfort；　that　he　had　seen　the　last　of　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey。　But　the　ill…concealed　bladery　of　the　machine；　the　present　machinery　of　Fate；　the　deus　ex　machina；　so　to　speak；　was　against　him。　The　bicycle；　torn　from　this　attractive　young　woman；　grew　heavier　and　heavier；　and　continually　more　unsteady。　It　seemed　a　choice　between　stopping　at　Ripley　or　dying　in　the　flower　of　his　days。　He　went　into　the　Unicorn；　after　propping　his　machine　outside　the　door；　and；　as　he　cooled　down　and　smoked　his　Red　Herring　cigarette　while　the　cold　meat　was　getting　ready；　he　saw　from　the　window　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey　and　the　other　man　in　brown；　entering　Ripley。
  They　filled　him　with　apprehension　by　looking　at　the　house　which　sheltered　him；　but　the　sight　of　his　bicycle；　propped　in　a　drunk　and　incapable　attitude　against　the　doorway；　humping　its　rackety　mud…guard　and　leering　at　them　with　its　darkened　lantern　eye；　drove　them　awayso　it　seemed　to　Mr。　Hoopdriverto　the　spacious　swallow　of　the　Golden　Dragon。　The　young　lady　was　riding　very　slowly；　but　the　other　man　in　brown　had　a　bad　puncture　and　was　wheeling　his　machine。　Mr。　Hoopdriver　noted　his　flaxen　moustache；　his　aquiline　nose；　his　rather　bent　shoulders；　with　a　sudden；　vivid　dislike。
  The　maid　at　the　Unicorn　is　naturally　a　pleasant　girl；　but　she　is　jaded　by　the　incessant　incidence　of　cyclists；　and　Hoopdriver's　mind；　even　as　he　conversed　with　her　in　that　cultivated　voice　of　hisof　the　weather；　of　the　distance　from　London；　and　of　the　excellence　of　the　Ripley　roadwandered　to　the　incomparable　freshness　and　brilliance　of　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey。　As　he　sat　at　meat　he　kept　turning　his　head　to　the　window　to　see　what　signs　there　were　of　that　person；　but　the　face　of　the　Golden　Dragon　displayed　no　appreciation　of　the　delightful　morsel　it　had　swallowed。　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　yardit　is　one　of　those　delightful　inns　that　date　from　the　coaching　dayswheeling　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。　At　times　he　would　walk；　at　times　lounge　by　the　wayside；　and　every　public　house；　in　spite　of　Briggs　and　a　sentiment　of　economy；　meant　a　lemonade　and　a　dash　of　bitter。　（For　that　is　the　experience　of　all　those　who　go　on　wheels；　that　drinking　begets　thirst；　even　more　than　thirst　begets　drinking；　until　at　last　the　man　who　yields　becomes　a　hell　unto　himself；　a　hell　in　which　the　fire　dieth　not；　and　the　thirst　is　not　quenched。）　Until　a　pennyworth　of　acrid　green　apples　turned　the　current　that　threatened　to　carry　him　away。　Ever　and　again　a　cycle；　or　a　party　of　cyclists；　would　go　by；　with　glittering　wheels　and　softly　running　chains；　and　on　each　occasion；　to　save　his　self…respect；　Mr。　Hoopdriver　descended　and　feigned　some　trouble　with　his　saddle。　Each　time　he　descended　with　less　trepidation。
  He　did　not　reach　Guildford　until　nearly　four　o'clock；　and　then　he　was　so　much　exhausted　that　he　decided　to　put　up　there　for　the　night；　at　the　Yellow　Hammer　Coffee　Tavern。　And　after　he　had　cooled　a　space　and　refreshed　himself　with　tea　and　bread　and　butter　and　jam；the　tea　he　drank　noisily　out　of　the　saucer；he　went　out　to　loiter　away　the　rest　of　the　afternoon。　Guildford　is　an　altogether　charming　old　town；　famous；　so　he　learnt　from　a　Guide　Book；　as　the　scene　of　Master　Tupper's　great　historical　novel　of　Stephen　Langton；　and　it　has　a　delightful　castle；　all　set　about　with　geraniums　and　brass　plates　commemorating　the　gentlemen　who　put　them　up；　and　its　Guildhall　is　a　Tudor　building；　very　pleasant　to　see；　and　in　the　afternoon　the　shops　are　busy　and　the　people　going　to　and　fro　make　the　pavements　look　bright　and　prosperous。　It　was　nice　to　peep　in　the　windows　and　see　the　heads　of　the　men　and　girls　in　the　drapers'　shops；　busy　as　busy；　serving　away。　The　High　Street　runs　down　at　an　angle　of　seventy　degrees　to　the　horizon　（so　it　seemed　to　Mr。　Hoopdriver；　whose　feeling　for　gradients　was　unnaturally　exalted）；　and　it　brought　his　heart　into　his　mouth　to　see　a　cyclist　ride　down　it；　like　a　fly　crawling　down　a　window　pane。　The　man　hadn't　even　a　brake。　He　visited　the　castle　early　in　the　evening　and　paid　his　twopence　to　ascend　the　Keep。
  At　the　top；　from　the　cage；　he　looked　down　over　the　clustering　red　roofs　of　the　town　and　the　tower　of　the　church；　and　then　going　to　the　southern　side　sat　down　and　lit　a　Red　Herring　cigarette；　and　stared　away　south　over　the　old　bramble…bearing；　fern…beset　ruin；　at　the　waves　of　blue　upland　that　rose；　one　behind　another；　across　the　Weald；　to　the　lazy　altitudes　of　Hindhead　and　Butser。　His　pale　grey　eyes　were　full　of　complacency　and　pleasurable　anticipation。　Tomorrow　he　would　go　riding　across　that　wide　valley。
  He　did　not　notice　any　one　else　had　come　up　the　Keep　after　him　until　he　heard　a　soft　voice　behind　him　saying：　〃Well；　MISS　BEAUMONT；　here's　the　view。〃　Something　in　the　accent　pointed　to　a　jest　in　the　name。
  〃It's　a　dear　old　town；　brother　George；〃　answered　another　voice　that　sounded　familiar　enough；　and　turning　his　head；　Mr。　Hoopdriver　saw　the　other　man　in　brown　and　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey；　with　their　backs　towards　him。　She　turned　her　smiling　profile　towards　Hoopdriver。　〃Only；　you　know；　brothers　don't　call　their　sisters〃
  She　glanced　over　her　shoulder　and　saw　Hoopdriver。　〃Damn！〃　said　the　other　man　in　brown；　quite　audibly；　starting　as　he　followed　her　glance。
  Mr。　Hoopdriver；　with　a　fine　air　of　indifference；　resumed　the　Weald。　〃Beautiful　old　town；　isn't　it？〃　said　the　other　man　in　brown；　after　a　quite　perceptible　pause。
  〃Isn't　it？〃　said　the　Young　Lady　in　Grey。
  Another　pause　began。
  〃Can't　get　alone　anywhere；〃　said　the　other　man　in　brown；　looking　round。
  Then　Mr。　Hoopdriver　perceived　clearly　that　he　was　in　the　way；　and　decided　to　retreat。　It　was　just　his　luck　of　course　that　he　should　stumble　at　the　head　of　the　steps　and　vanish　with　indignity。　This　was　the　third　time　that　he'd　seen　HIM；　and　the　fourth　time　her。　And　of　course　he　was　too　big　a　fat…head　to　raise　his　cap　to　HER！　He　thought　of　that　at　the　foot　of　the　Keep。