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Updated: June 3, 2025
I wondered whether Braxton had projected from Clifford's Inn an image of his own bicycle. He may have done so; but I've no evidence that he did. I myself was bicycling when next I saw him; but he, I remember, was on foot. 'This was a few minutes later. I was bicycling with dear Lady Rodfitten. She seemed really to like me.
"I mean I can't explain what I mean," I groaned. Lady Rodfitten moved away, refusing support, limping terribly, towards the house. The crowd followed her, solicitous. I stood helplessly, desperately, where I was. 'I stood an outlaw, a speck on the now empty terrace. Mechanically I picked up my straw hat, and wheeled the two bent bicycles to the balustrade. I suppose Mr.
She asked me to come and lunch with her next Friday "just our two selves" at Rodfitten House, and to bring my manuscript with me. Need I say that I walked on air? "And now," she said strenuously, "let us take a turn on our bicycles." By this time there were a dozen riders on the terrace, all of them smiling with pride and rapture. We mounted and rode along together.
Lady Rodfitten no, she didn't drift, she marched, in; and presently, at an adjacent table, she was drawing a comparison, in clarion tones, between Jean and Edouard de Reszke. It seemed to me that her own voice had much in common with Edouard's. Even more was it akin to a military band. I found myself beating time to it with my foot. Decidedly, my spirits had risen.
'Lady Rodfitten was talking about India to a recent Viceroy. She seemed to have as firm a grip of India as of "Ariel." I sat forgotten. I wanted to arise and wander off in a vague search for Braxton. But I feared this might look as if I were angry at being ignored. Presently Lady Rodfitten herself arose, to have what she called her "annual look round."
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