"I'm awfully afraid I can't," said the Oxford man. "Awfully
sorry, you know."

"Then I'll have to stick 'ere for a bit," said Bert. "I got to
see the thing through. You go on, Edna."

"Don't like leavin' you, Bert."

"You can't 'elp it, Edna."...

The last Edna saw of Bert was his figure, in charred and
blackened shirtsleeves, standing in the dusk. He was musing
deeply by the mixed ironwork and ashes of his vanished
motor-bicycle, a melancholy figure. His retinue of spectators
had shrunk now to half a dozen figures. Flossie and Grubb were
preparing to follow her desertion.

"Cheer up, old Bert!" cried Edna, with artificial cheerfulness.
"So long."

"So long, Edna," said Bert.

"See you to-morrer."

"See you to-morrer," said Bert, though he was destined, as a
matter of fact, to see much of the habitable globe before he saw
her again.

Bert began to light matches from a borrowed boxful, and search
for a half-crown that still eluded him among the charred remains.