It was a splendid morning too. Like the pulse of a perfect heart, life struck straight through the streets. There was no fumbling--no hesitation. Sweeping and swerving, accurately, punctually, noiselessly, there, precisely at the right instant, the motor-car stopped at the door. The girl, silk-stockinged, feathered, evanescent, but not to him particularly attractive (for he had had his fling), alighted.