Ponsonby Ffolliott felt the glory of a man of the world jumping in his marrow; he kicked out his legs:
“Yes,” he said affectedly. “The old trout made me swear to go down to Enghien-les-Bains for lunch. Such a silly hole—such a silly meal—but, you know, a fellow isn’t bound by a promise made under compulsion, is he?”
Ponsonby blew out smoke:
“By Jove,” he said, staring at a girl, one of a bevy that passed, who glanced a roguish eye at him—“what a very pretty girl!”
Ponsonby kicked out his legs jauntily; and followed the girl. And, as he walked, the long white laces of his stays hung down behind and swung to his strutting.
CHAPTER LVI
Wherein it is suspected that there has been Peeping through Windows
August and September passed, and the fever went out of the hot breath of the sun; October came into the city in cooler fashion and more russet habit. The scent of autumn in the air brought the students scrambling back from the country, and the Boule Miche knew their light gait and cheery voice once more.