Heaven knows," said Phipps, sitting down wearily. "You'd better infer."

What kind of man?" said Dangle.

How should I know?--in bicycling costume, the fellow said."

But what height?--What complexion?"

Didn't ask," said Phipps. "DIDN'T ASK! Nonsense," said Dangle.

Ask him yourself," said Phipps. "He's an ostler chap in the White

Hart,--short, thick-set fellow, with a red face and a crusty manner.

Leaning up against the stable door. Smells of whiskey. Go and ask him."

"Of course," said Dangle, taking his straw hat from the shade over the

stuffed bird on the chiffonier and turning towards the door. "I might

have known."

Phipps' mouth opened and shut.

You're tired, I'm sure, Mr. Phipps," said the lady, soothingly. "Let me

ring for some tea for you." It suddenly occurred to Phipps that he had

lapsed a little from his chivalry. "I was a little annoyed at the way he

rushed me to do all this business," he said. "But I'd do a hundred times

as much if it would bring you any nearer to her." Pause. "I WOULD like a

167

The Wheels of Chance