"Hadn't we better—er—walk?" said Warrington, nervously.
"You jump in," said Vicary; "don't be frightened. I'm coming to hold your hand."
He gave the address, and they bowled away through the grey wetness. Warrington was trying to see the whole of his person at once in a six-inch strip of looking-glass.
"Now, I ask you, Vic," he said, plaintively, "is it likely she'd have an object like me?"
"Fishing!" said the subaltern. "You're not an Adonis, but a V.C. covers a multitude of sins."
"Pooh! what does a girl care about that?" said Warrington; and Vicary laughed aloud at him. To himself he said, "The girl that gets you will get the bravest, cleanest, best gentleman that wears the Queen's uniform; and the girl that will refuse you doesn't exist."
"Why, we're there," said Warrington, flushing and fidgeting; "how that horse has been going!"
"Three doors down the square," said Vicary to the cabman through the trap.
"Tell him to drive once round first," said Warrington, pulling a glove off and then beginning to put it on again. "I—I've got something to say to you——"
"It'll keep," said Vicary. "Out you get."