VI. ON THE ROAD TO RIPLEY

In the fulness of time, Mr. Hoopdriver drew near the Marquis of Granby

at Esher, and as he came under the railway arch and saw the inn in front

of him, he mounted his machine again and rode bravely up to the doorway.

Burton and biscuit and cheese he had, which, indeed, is Burton in its

proper company; and as he was eating there came a middleaged man in a

drab cycling suit, very red and moist and angry in the face, and asked

bitterly for a lemon squash. And he sat down upon the seat in the bar

and mopped his face. But scarcely had he sat down before he got up again

and stared out of the doorway.

Damn!" said he. Then, "Damned Fool!"

Eigh?" said Mr. Hoopdriver, looking round suddenly with a piece of

cheese in his cheek.

The man in drab faced him. "I called myself a Damned Fool, sir. Have you

any objections?"

"Oh!--None. None," said Mr. Hoopdriver. "I thought you spoke to me. I

didn't hear what you said."

To have a contemplative disposition and an energetic temperament, sir,

is hell. Hell, I tell you. A contemplative disposition and a phlegmatic

temperament, all very well. But energy and philosophy--!"

The Wheels of Chance