At Billing's Corner he helped her off the bus and on to the four-horse char-a-banc waiting outside the Billing Arms.
"Last char-a-banc home," said Ernie authoritatively. "Half after nine or so. I'll look out."
He stood beneath her in the dust.
With her jet-black hair, her colouring of a ripe peach, and those soft swarthy eyes that streamed down upon him, she perched above him, stately, mocking, mysterious.
He could not make her out. She was at once so simple and so elusive in her royal way. She teased, startled, and exalted him; she calmed and maddened him.
"Thank you, Mr. Caspar," came the quiet voice from on high.
"Call me, Ernie," he ordered, this strange passion to domineer still overmastering him.
She gazed at him with those quiet ironical eyes of hers.
Then the char-a-banc moved on.