III
My departure was very dramatic.
Men shook hands with an air of finality. Two or three girls kissed me good-by with conventional little pecks that seemed to say, “I’ll never see the poor devil again, so I may as well waste some osculation on him.”
I had made the entire circuit, until there remained only a couple of village school-marms, who happened—most unfortunately—to live on top of the highest hill in town. Half-way to the summit, I perceived that my car was never destined to climb that hill. It slackened speed. It stopped. It commenced to roll backward. I was forced to throw it into reverse, just as the school-marms appeared in their doorway. The situation was humiliating. I became slightly flustered. I meant to step on the brake, but I stepped on the gas.
Wherefore, after some one had picked me out of the débris, I started southward by train.