“You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. After the usual laconic greetings, he drew him on one side. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. I had nosebleeds that day and I got halfway up the rope before I fell off. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. ) He hesitated. A trial always brings those involved into public notice, and I dare say he feels there will be scandal enough without adding to it. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. .
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