“He turned; went up the street, thinking to find somewhere to sit, till it was time for Lincoln's Inn—for Messrs Hooper and Grateley. Where should he go? No matter. Up the street, then, towards Regent's Park. His boots on the pavement struck out 'no matter'; for it was early, still very early.
It was a splendid morning too. Like the pulse of a perfect heart, life struck straight through the streets.
There was no fumbling—no hesitation. Sweeping and swerving, accurately, punctually, noiselessly, there, precisely at the right instant, the motor car stopped at the door. The girl, silk-stockinged, feathered, evanescent, but not to him particularly attractive (for he had had his fling), alighted.”