I took the reins. We had to go very slowly, for it was one of the imitation roads, and when we were not scaling an ascent that positively beetled, we were going down a descent which I was glad it was too dark to see. After a minute or two, I took the near wheel eighteen inches up the bank.
"Sorry," said the girl, as she disengaged herself from my neck and arms and resumed her seat, "but it was your fault for taking it up the bank."
"I know. I hope you weren't frightened. I'm awfully sorry."
"You drive rather well, considering."
"Steady the Buffs. Considering what?"
"Considering it's your first shot."
In silence I gave her the reins.
"After that," I said icily, "after that there is no more to be said. Was it for this that, at the age of four, I was borne by two reluctant goats along the Hastings strand? Pardon me, those last six words comprise an iambic line—a fact which is itself the best evidence of my agitation. It is a little winning way I have. Most criminals when charged make no reply. When I am arrested, I shall protest in anapaests. As I was saying, was it for this—?"
"Stop, stop," she said, laughing; "you drive all right—beautifully."
I took the reins again.