It did work, but slowly. After which, gloves had to be assumed.
"I suppose I can get out this way. Oh! My music! Never mind, I'll leave it."
Then with a sudden access of ceremoniousness he bade adieu to Hilda; no detail of punctilio was omitted from the formality.
"Good-bye. Many thanks."
"Good-bye. Thank you!"
Edwin preceded the bicyclist and the bicycle round the side of the house to the front-gate at the corner of Hulton Street and Trafalgar Road.
In the solemn and chill nocturnal solitude of rain-swept Hulton Street, Ingpen straddled the bicycle, with his left foot on one raised pedal and the other on the pavement; and then held out a gloved hand to Edwin.
"Good-bye, old chap. See you soon."
Much good-will and appreciation and hope was implicit in that rather casual handshake.
He sheered off strongly down the dark slope of Hulton Street in the rain, using his ankles with skill in the pedal-stroke. The man's calves seemed to be enormously developed. The cape ballooned out behind his swiftness, and in a moment he had swerved round the flickering mournful gas-lamp at the bottom of the mean new street and was gone.