§ 2
Miss Meeta Pinkey was an emotional blonde girl, and she fell off her machine gracefully and naturally into Mr. Preemby’s arms as he was hurled against her. It would seem to have been the original intention of Destiny to have made this the beginning of a permanent relationship, but in this matter Destiny had reckoned without Miss Hossett. Miss Meeta Pinkey was as ripe for love just then as dry gunpowder is for a bang, and she was already deeply in love with Mr. Preemby before she had been replaced securely on her feet. She stood flushed and round-eyed and breathless, and Mr. Preemby looked quite manly and handsome after picking up her bicycle with an air of rescue.
Miss Hossett, after butting against Mr. Preemby, had swerved, dismounted and stood now prepared for a dispute. The collision had further loosened the already loose handlebar of the entirely untrustworthy hired machine she had been riding. It was this looseness had caused the accident. Her attention seemed divided equally between this and the possible grievance of Mr. Preemby. “I rang my bell,” she said.
She was flushed and erect. She was a round-faced girl with a long, thin neck, a good bright complexion, glasses on her thin nose and a resolute thin-lipped mouth.
“I did all I could to avoid you,” she said.
“Awkward of me,” said Mr. Preemby disarmingly. “I was lost in a day-dream.”
“You aren’t hurt—?” asked Meeta.
“Startled,” said Mr. Preemby, “especially where the wheel got me. This place is full of corners.”
“I’d’ve been over,” said Meeta, “if you hadn’t caught me.”
Miss Hossett was reassured about any possible conflict with Mr. Preemby. Evidently he was going to be quite nice about the accident. “This handlebar was as loose as could be,” she said. “Look at it! You can twist it about like on a swivel. They ought to be punished for letting out such machines. Some of these days one of ’em’ll get let in for Damages. Then they’ll be a bit more careful. Scandalous I call it.”
“You can’t ride it at all now,” said Mr. Preemby.
“No,” she agreed. “Have to take it back to them.”
It seemed only right and proper for Mr. Preemby to wheel the machine for her back through the town to the hiring place, where Miss Hossett reproved the hirer, refused to pay anything, and secured the return of her deposit in a few well-chosen words. Miss Pinkey paid the hire of her bicycle for a First Hour. It seemed natural after that for the little party of three to keep together. They kept together with a faint sense of adventure, and Mr. Preemby behaved as nothing less than a normal lodger at Miss Witcherly’s establishment and summer visitor to the seaside. His new-found friends were Londoners, and he referred himself to Norwich and the management of house property. He was quite amusing about Sheringham. He said it was “a dear little backward-forward place,” that it was a real treat to come to for a breath of sea air.
“I don’t like regular smart places,” said Mr. Preemby. “I’m too absent-minded.”