snatched her away from him as though he was scarcely fit to live in the

same world with her. No more he was! He felt he had presumed upon her

worldly ignorance in travelling with her day after day. She was

so dainty, so delightful, so serene. He began to recapitulate her

expressions, the light of her eyes, the turn of her face.. .

He wasn't good enough to walk in the same road with her. Nobody was.

Suppose they let him say good-bye to her; what could he say? That? But

they were sure not to let her talk to him alone; her mother would be

there as--what was it? Chaperone. He'd never once had a chance of saying

what he felt; indeed, it was only now he was beginning to realise what

he felt. Love I he wouldn't presume. It was worship. If only he could

have one more chance. He must have one more chance, somewhere,

somehow.

Then he would pour out his soul to her eloquently. He felt eloquently,

and words would come. He was dust under her feet...

His meditation was interrupted by the click of a door handle, and Jessie

appeared in the sunlight under the verandah. "Come away from here," she

said to Hoopdriver, as he rose to meet her. "I'm going home with them.

We have to say good-bye."

Mr. Hoopdriver winced, opened and shut his mouth, and rose without a

word.

254

The Wheels of Chance