Immersed in these reflections, I failed to notice that a barouche had stopped opposite to me; and suddenly I found a footman addressing me.
“Beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “Her ladyship wishes to speak to you.”
“It is a blessed thing to be young, Martin,” I observed.
“Yes, sir,” said Martin. “It’s a fine day, sir.”
“But very short,” said I. Martin is respectful, and said nothing—to me, at least. What he said to the coachman, I don’t know.
And then I went up to Dolly.
“Get in and drive round,” suggested Dolly.
“I can’t,” said I. “I have a bad nose.”
“What’s the matter with your nose?” asked Dolly, smiling.
“The joint is injured,” said I, getting into the barouche. And I added severely, “I suppose I’d better sit with my back to the horses?”