"Has he been giving you a lesson in manners?"
"Not he." She tossed back her wavy, golden-brown hair as she spoke. "I should like to see him try it on."
Miles gave a short little laugh.
"He got into an awful rage the other day because somebody came through here on a bicycle. How are you to read the notice all that way off?"
Miles was not listening to her. Hearing the sound of wheels, he had turned round and caught sight of the Colonel's dog-cart. Marjorie glanced mischievously at him, and just as the Colonel entered the gateway, she deliberately mounted her bicycle and rode through before his eyes. There was just room for her to pass. The Colonel reined in, and looked sternly round. "Stop!" he said. Marjorie obeyed. Wheeling her bicycle forward, she said in her politest manner:
"I beg your pardon. Did you want me?"
"This is quite contrary to regulations."
"Yes, I know," she answered, looking straight at him. "I read the notice, but I don't see the sense of it."
There were one or two soldiers standing near, and they exchanged glances and smiled. Miles coloured up with shame and vexation. The Colonel gave the reins to his groom and got down without another word. He held out his hand to Miles as the dog-cart passed on.
"I want to speak to you," he said shortly, and he walked on in front of them.