"You're awfully good and kind," said the girl, shaking her head, "but it's no good. Think. How on earth would I explain you?" "It is unnecessary to explain a chauffeur." "Oh, but you can't--" "Certainly I can. At any rate, I'm going to. Come along and get changed, mistress." I scrambled to my feet. "If you'll show me the way to the garage, I'll be looking over the car. What is she, by the way? And where does your late chauffeur keep his boots?" "Are you an angel?" said the girl, getting up. "Who told you?" said I. The boots were much too big and the gaiters a little small. Still, they did. A long dust-coat came down over the tops of the gaiters, making the uniform unnecessary. I took the cap to wear when we reached the town. Gloves, near enough. It was a big, open car, and all the way to Laipnik the girl, looking priceless in a fawn-coloured dress, sat by my side. We went like the wind. After a while: "He drives well," said my companion, half to herself. "Thank you, beautiful doll--I should say madam. Is that right?" "Quite, thanks. How are the boots?" "A bit spacious. I'm afraid I've lost one of my toes already." "You poor man. Which one?" "Baldwin," said I. "He's got separated from the others, you know. I'll be able to look for him when we get to Laipnik. Told them to keep together, too," I added bitterly. She gave a little peal of laughter. Then: "How tiresome" she said. "And I'm afraid your calves weren't made for those gaiters." "I admit they don't fit as well as your stockings, but--" "Norval." "Madam?" "Behave yourself." "Very good, madam. By the way, what about my wages?" "What do you suggest? I shan't object to anything reasonable." "No? Well, I was getting eleven-three a yar--day in my last place, and all found--especially all." "'All found''s rather a dangerous phrase." "Not at all. It only means washing and beer and the English papers, when you've done with them, and meat on Sundays. A smile, too, when I'm tired, and a word of thanks after seventy miles in the rain with a head wind." "It might cover a multitude of sins, Norval." Here I saved a dog's life and passed two wagons before their drivers had had time to inspire the horses with the terror they felt themselves. Then: "All found's all right, if you know your man," said I. "But I don't." I caught her laughing eyes in the windscreen, and straightway drank to them from an imaginary wine-glass. She smiled gently, and the eyes looked away with the look that sees at once not at all and yet farthest. She was gazing down the vista of memory. "Then it's a compact," I said quietly. "Sealed with a drink." "I never drank to you this time, Norval." "Yes, you did," said I. "Only with thine eyes, doll beautiful." "You forget yourself." "I remember you. You were wearing a black and gold dress. Sweet you looked." She turned away and pointed to a church we were leaving on our right. "That," she said, "is a church."