“I don’t know. They got rid of it.”
“I see.” His eyes twinkled. “And you compelled them to make good. They have done it quite handsomely. Your persuasive powers must be considerably greater than mine.”
“I threatened to hire,” said Prudence, and immediately realised on hearing him laugh that this admission was disloyal to the family. She lifted her eyes with a flash of pride in them to his smiling face. “Father is always generous,” she said. “He wouldn’t trust the old cycle again, though the spill was entirely my fault. I’m cautious in regard to dogs now.”
“Yes,” he agreed, the smile deepening. “Caution is a quality which the wise cultivate. Possibly had I not considerably neglected it I should have been more successful—socially. But these things are so dull.”
He took his hand off the handle-bar and straightened himself and looked down at her with a quick resolve in his face.
“We managed to find room for the old cycle,” he said. “I don’t see why there need be any difficulty in stowing this away. What do you say? Will you drive with me?”
For the fraction of a second Prudence hesitated. She did not want to drive with him. She knew that if she agreed she could not speak of it at home: there was something a little shameful in doing what must of necessity be done secretly. But the memory of that former occasion on which she had been glad enough to make use of his car was in her mind, and made a refusal to accept the present invitation appear pointedly ungracious.
“You would rather not?” he said reproachfully.
Prudence made up her mind on the instant.
“Thank you, I should like it. But couldn’t we leave the bicycle somewhere and pick it up on our return?”