“Don't like leavin' you, Bert.”
“You can't 'elp it, Edna.”...
The last Edna saw of Bert was his figure, in charred and blackened shirtsleeves, standing in the dusk. He was musing deeply by the mixed ironwork and ashes of his vanished motor-bicycle, a melancholy figure. His retinue of spectators had shrunk now to half a dozen figures. Flossie and Grubb were preparing to follow her desertion.
“Cheer up, old Bert!” cried Edna, with artificial cheerfulness. “So long.”
“So long, Edna,” said Bert.
“See you to-morrer.”
“See you to-morrer,” said Bert, though he was destined, as a matter of fact, to see much of the habitable globe before he saw her again.
Bert began to light matches from a borrowed boxful, and search for a half-crown that still eluded him among the charred remains.
His face was grave and melancholy.
“I WISH that 'adn't 'appened,” said Flossie, riding on with Grubb....