“Well,” I said doubtfully, “always glad to oblige, you know, but I’ve
just had the dickens of a bicycle ride, and I’m a bit stiff and sore,
especially in the--as I say, a bit stiff and sore. If it’s anything to
be fetched from upstairs----”
“No, no, you don’t understand.”
“I don’t, quite, no.”
“Oh, it’s so difficult.... How can I say it?... Can’t you guess?”
“No. I’m dashed if I can.”
“Bertie--let me go!”
“But I haven’t got hold of you.”
“Release me!”
“Re----”
And then I suddenly got it. I suppose it was fatigue that had made me
so slow to apprehend the nub.
“What?”
I staggered, and the left pedal came up and caught me on the shin. But
such was the ecstasy in the soul that I didn’t utter a cry.
“Release you?”
“Yes.”