Michael was in despair over his clumsiness, especially when Miss Kathleen McDonnell remarked that there went the ride she’d been looking forward to all day. “Well, you two go on an I’ll walk back,” Miss McDonnell offered. “Oh, but I can easily hire another machine,” said Michael. “No. I’ll go back. I’ve grazed my knee a bit badly.” Michael was so much perturbed to hear this that without thinking he anxiously asked to be allowed to look, and wished that the drain by which he was standing would swallow him up when he realized by Kathleen’s giggling what he had said. “It’s all right,” said Miss McDonnell kindly. “There’s no need to worry. I hope you’ll have a pleasant ride.” “I say, it’s really awfully ripping of you to be so jolly good-tempered about it,” Michael exclaimed. “Are you sure I can’t do anything?” “No, you can just put my bicycle in the shop along there, and I’ll take the tram back. Mind and enjoy yourselves, and don’t be late.” The equable Miss McDonnell then left her sister and Michael to their own devices. They rode along in alert silence until they left Branksome behind them and came into hedgerows, where an insect earned Michael’s cordial gratitude by invading his eye. He jumped off his bicycle immediately and called for Kathleen’s aid, and as he stood in the quiet lane with the girl’s face close to his and her hand brushing his cheeks, Michael felt himself to be indeed a favourite of fortune. “There it is, Mr. Fane,” said Miss Kathleen McDonnell. And, though he tried to be sceptical for a while of the insect’s discovery, he was bound to admit the evidence of the handkerchief. “Thanks awfully,” said Michael. “And I say, I wish you wouldn’t call me Mr. Fane. You know my Christian name.” “Oh, but I’d feel shy to call you Michael,” said Miss McDonnell. “Not if I called you Kathleen,” Michael suggested, and felt inclined to shake his own hand in congratulation of his own magnificent daring. “Well, I must say one thing. You don’t waste much time. I think you’re a bit of a flirt, you know,” said Kathleen. “A flirt,” Michael echoed. “Oh, I say, do you really think so?” “I’m afraid I do,” murmured Kathleen. “Shall we go on again?” They rode along in renewed silence for several miles, and then they suddenly came upon Poole Harbour lying below them, washed in the tremulous golden airs of the afternoon. “I say, how ripping!” cried Michael, leaping from his machine and flinging it away from him against a bank of vivid grass. “We must sit down here for a bit.” “It is pretty,” said Kathleen. “It’s almost like a picture.” “I’m glad you’re fond of beautiful things,” said Michael earnestly. “Well, one can’t help it, can one?” sighed Kathleen.