“Yes,” she said, “she's very sweet.”
“Now do!” said Mr. Purcey. “Let me give you a run—Just to please me, I mean. I'm sure you'll like her.”
A little compunction, a little curiosity, a sudden revolt against all the discomfiture and sordid doubts she had been suffering from, made Cecilia glance softly at Mr. Purcey's figure; almost before she knew it, she was seated in the A.i. Damyer. It trembled, emitted two small sounds, one large scent, and glided forward. Mr. Purcey said:
“That's rippin' of you!”
A postman, dog, and baker's cart, all hurrying at top speed, seemed to stand still; Cecilia felt the wind beating her cheeks. She gave a little laugh.
“You must just take me home, please.”
Mr. Purcey touched the chauffeur's elbow.
“Round the park,” he said. “Let her have it.”
The A.i. Damyer uttered a tiny shriek. Cecilia, leaning back in her padded corner, glanced askance at Mr. Purcey leaning back in his; an unholy, astonished little smile played on her lips.
'What am I doing?' it seemed to say. 'The way he got me here—really! And now I am here I'm just going to enjoy it!'