"But I haven't got a waistcoat on, silly."
"Which one are you going to put on?"
"I don't know yet. This is a matter which requires thought. Give me time, give me air."
"Well, I shall put the ticket here on the dressing-table, and then you can't miss it." He looked at his watch. "And the trap starts in half an hour."
"Help!" I cried, and I leapt out of bed.
Half an hour later I was saying good-bye to Herbert.
"I've had an awfully jolly time," I said, "and I'll come again."
"You've got the ticket all right?"
"Rather!" and I drove away amidst cheers. Cheers of sorrow.
It was half-an-hour's drive to the station. For the first five minutes I thought how sickening it was to be leaving the country; then I had a slight shock; and for the next twenty-five minutes I tried to remember how much a third single to the nearest part of London cost. Because I had left my ticket on the dressing-table after all.