For a row of pins, that morning, he would
have given Jim Horrocleave a week's notice, or even the amount of a
week's wages in lieu of notice! Rachel sighed, but within herself.
In another minute he was elegantly flying down Bycars Lane, guiding
his own bicycle with his right hand and the crock with his left
hand. The feat appeared miraculous to Rachel, who watched from the
bow-window of the parlour. Beyond question he made a fine figure. And
it was for her that he was flying to Hanbridge! She turned away to her
domesticity.
II
It seemed to her that he had scarcely been gone ten minutes when one
of the glorious taxicabs which had recently usurped the stand of the
historic fly under the Town Hall porch drew up at the front door, and
Louis got out of it. The sound of his voice was the first intimation
to Rachel that it was Louis who was arriving. He shouted at the
cabman as he paid the fare. The window of the parlour was open and the
curtains pinned up. She ran to the window, and immediately saw that
Louis' head was bandaged. Then she ran to the door. He was climbing
rather stiffly up the steps.
"All right! All right!" he shouted at her. "A spill. Nothing of the
least importance.
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