that matters," shouted the station-master. "I've been a looking at
it--er. It's my fence that's suffered most. And that's only strained
the post a lil' bit. Shall I put your bag in behind, sir?"

Mr. Direck assented, and then, after a momentary hesitation, rewarded
the station-master's services.

"Ready?" asked Mr. Britling.

"That's all right sir," the station-master reverberated.

With a rather wide curve Mr. Britling steered his way out of the station
into the highroad.


Section 4

And now it seemed was the time for Mr. Direck to make his meditated
speeches. But an unexpected complication was to defeat this intention.
Mr. Direck perceived almost at once that Mr. Britling was probably
driving an automobile for the first or second or at the extremest the
third time in his life.

The thing became evident when he struggled to get into the high gear--an
attempt that stopped the engine, and it was even more startlingly so
when Mr. Britling narrowly missed a collision with a baker's cart at a
corner. "I pressed the accelerator," he explained afterwards, "instead
of the brake. One does at first. I missed him by less than a foot."
The estimate was a generous one. And after that Mr. Direck became
too anxious not to distract his host's thoughts to persist with his