“Well, it doesn’t matter in the least,” said she, quickly.  “I remember everything that happened, and I will write the minutes and read them for you; that is, if you want me to.”

I assured her that nothing would please me better, and we talked a little about the minutes, after which I thought I ought not to keep her standing at the gate any longer.  So I took leave of her, and we shook hands over the gate.  This was the first time I had ever shaken hands with the doctor’s daughter, for she was a reserved girl, and hitherto I had merely bowed to her.

As I sped away down the street and out into the open country my heart was a good deal lighter than it had been when I began my journey.  It was certainly pleasant to leave that village, which had been my home for the greater part of a year, without the feeling that there was no one in it who cared for me, even to the extent of a little box of quinine capsules.

CHAPTER II

A BAD TWIST

It was about the middle of the afternoon that I found myself bowling along a smooth highway, bordered by trees and stretching itself almost upon a level far away into the distance.  Had I been a scorcher, here would have been a chance to do a little record-breaking, for I was a powerful and practised wheelman.  But I had no desire to be extravagant with my energies, and so contented myself with rolling steadily on at a speed moderate enough to allow me to observe the country I was passing through.

There were not many people on the road, but at some distance ahead of me I saw a woman on a wheel.  She was not going rapidly, and I was gaining on her.  Suddenly, with no reason whatever that I could see, her machine gave a twist, and, although she put out her foot to save herself, she fell to the ground.  Instantly I pushed forward to assist her, but before I could reach her she was on her feet.  She made a step towards her bicycle, which lay in the middle of the road, and then she stopped and stood still.  I saw that she was hurt, but I could not help a sort of inward smile.  “It is the old way of the world,” I thought.  “Would the Fates have made that young woman fall from her bicycle if there had been two men coming along on their wheels?”

As I jumped from my machine and approached her she turned her head and looked at me.  She was a pale girl, and her face was troubled.  When I asked her if she had hurt herself, she spoke to me without the slightest embarrassment or hesitation.

“I twisted my foot in some way,” she said, “and I do not know what I am going to do.  It hurts me to make a step, and I am sure I cannot work my wheel.”

“Have you far to go?” I asked.

“I live about two miles from here,” she answered.  “I do not think I have sprained my ankle, but it hurts.  Perhaps, however, if I rest for a little while I may be able to walk.”

“I would not try to do that,” said I.  “Whatever has happened to your foot or ankle, you would certainly make it very much worse by walking such a distance.  Perhaps I can ride on and get you a conveyance?”