Tales of St. Austin's

by P. G. Wodehouse

The lady avoided his eye. She bent down and inspected the left pedal.

'They shouldn't have sent you out alone,' said Charteris, 'why did they?'

'They—they didn't. I came.'

There was a world of meaning in the phrase. Charteris felt that he was in the same case. They had not let him. He had come. Here was a kindred spirit, another revolutionary soul, scorning the fetters of convention and the so-called authority of self-constituted rules, aha! Bureaucrats!

'Shake hands,' he said, 'I'm in just the same way.'

They shook hands gravely.

'You know,' said the lady, 'I'm awfully sorry I did it now. It was very naughty.'

'I'm not sorry yet,' said Charteris, 'I'm rather glad than otherwise. But I expect I shall be sorry before long.'

'Will you be sent to bed?'

'I don't think so.'