‘No, I don’t.  The fact is, I have never found time to learn.’

A lady remarked that nowadays there was a certain distinction in not cycling; whereupon Miss Shale’s abrupt and rather metallic voice sounded what was meant for gentle irony.

’It’s a pity the machines can’t be sold cheaper.  A great many people who would like to cycle don’t feel able to afford it, you know.  One often hears of such cases out in the country, and it seems awfully hard lines, doesn’t it?’

Miss Rockett felt a warmth ascending to her ears, and made a violent effort to look unconcerned.  She wished to say something, but could not find the right words, and did not feel altogether sure of her voice.  The hostess, who made no personal application of Miss Shale’s remark, began to discuss the prices of bicycles, and others chimed in.  May fretted under this turn of the conversation.  Seeing that it was not likely to revert to subjects in which she could shine, she rose and offered to take leave.

‘Must you really go?’ fell with conventional regret from the hostess’s lips.

‘I’m afraid I must,’ Miss Rockett replied, bracing herself under the converging eyes and feeling not quite equal to the occasion.  ’My time is so short, and there are so many people I wish to see.’

As she left the house, anger burned in her.  It was certain that Hilda Shale would make known her circumstances.  She had fancied this revelation a matter of indifference; but, after all, the thought stung her intolerably.  The insolence of the creature, with her hint about the prohibitive cost of bicycles!  All the harder to bear because hitting the truth.  May would have long ago bought a bicycle had she been able to afford it.  Straying about the main streets of the town, she looked flushed and wrathful, and could think of nothing but her humiliation.

To make things worse, she lost count of time, and presently found that she had missed the only train by which she could return home.  A cab would be too much of an expense; she had no choice but to walk the three or four miles.  The evening was close; walking rapidly, and with the accompaniment of vexatious thoughts, she reached the gates of the Hall tired perspiring, irritated.  Just as her hand was on the gate a bicycle-bell trilled vigorously behind her, and, from a distance of twenty yards, a voice cried imperatively—­

‘Open the gate, please!’

Miss Rockett looked round, and saw Hilda Shale slowly wheeling forward, in expectation that way would be made for her.  Deliberately May passed through the side entrance, and let the little gate fall to.

Miss Shale dismounted, admitted herself, and spoke to May (now at the lodge door) with angry emphasis.

‘Didn’t you hear me ask you to open?’

‘I couldn’t imagine you were speaking to me,’ answered Miss Rockett, with brisk dignity.  ‘I supposed some servant of yours was in sight.’