“Good night, Mr. Bosinney!” called Winifred.

Bosinney started, clawed off his hat, and hurried on. He had obviously forgotten their existence.

“There!” said Dartie, “did you see the beast’s face? What did I say? Fine games!” He improved the occasion.

There had so clearly been a crisis in the cab that Winifred was unable to defend her theory.

She said: “I shall say nothing about it. I don’t see any use in making a fuss!”

With that view Dartie at once concurred; looking upon James as a private preserve, he disapproved of his being disturbed by the troubles of others.

“Quite right,” he said; “let Soames look after himself. He’s jolly well able to!”