Be a nice
little cat in front of the fire--all your muscles loose. Now! Are you
ready?"
"Yes," she murmured, with teeth set and dilated eyes staring ahead at
the hideous dangers of Park Road.
He impelled. The pedals went round. The machine slid terribly forward.
And in a moment Louis said, mischievously--
"I told you you'd have to go alone to-night. There you are!"
His footsteps ceased.
"Louis!" she cried, sharply and yet sadly upbraiding his unspeakable
treason. Her fingers gripped convulsively the handle-bars. She was
moving alone. It was inconceivably awful and delightful. She was on
the back of a wild pony in the forest. The miracle of equilibrium was
being accomplished. The impossible was done, and at the first attempt.
She thought very clearly how wondrous was life, and how perfectly
happy fate had made her. And then she was lying in a tangle amid
dozens of complex wheels, chains, and bars.
"Hurt?" shouted Louis, as he ran up.
She laughed and said "No," and sat up stiffly, full of secret dolours.
Yet he knew and she knew that the accidents of the previous two nights
had covered her limbs with blue discolorations, and that the latest
fall was more severe than any previous one.
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