“A charming play, was it not, dear?” said he. “And that delicious humour of his.”
Well, if Nellie was going to be comfortable all her life, it was only fair that she should contribute, should put her penny into the placid bag.
“Delicious,” she said. “I am sure it will have a great success. And how interesting to be there on the first night.”
She broke off suddenly, and clasped Philip’s arm.
“Ah—we nearly ran over that man,” she cried.
Philip remained quite calm. He would obviously be an admirable companion in a shipwreck or a thunderstorm or a railway accident. This was, delightfully, a new point about him, and Nellie found, on the discovery of it, that she must have been collecting his good points, for with the collector’s zeal she hastened to net it and add it to her specimens.
He pressed the hand that she had laid on his arm, and looked out of the window which he had opened on his side of the motor.
“My dear, there is nothing to be alarmed about,” he said. “The man is quite safe, and has not forgotten his usual vocabulary. You need never be afraid with Logan; he is the most careful of drivers, and has an extraordinary command of the brakes.”
Nellie collected this new genus Philip; sub-species Logan. It added a little bit to the completeness.
“Logan is quite trustworthy,” he went on; “you need never have a moment’s qualm when he is on the box. We were discussing the play. I should like to see it again. Does not that strike you as the true criterion as to whether you have essentially enjoyed a play? If there is only mere glitter, one does not want to repeat the experience. But there was gold, I thought, this evening.”