But the question is----Ah, they are shaking their heads; they are
edging away. She is too much. They look back sadly as they go. Another
tragedy....
Now I am going to be a bloater myself. Here is a jolly one, though her
stable-name is much too long. She is a Saloon-de-Luxe, and she
only costs L2,125 (why 5, I wonder--why not 6?) I can run to that,
_surely_. At any rate I can climb up and sit down on her cushions;
none of the grooms is looking. Dark-blue, I see, like Jane. That is
the sort of car I love. I am like the lady herring; I don't approve
of all this talk about the _insides_ of things; it seems to me to be
rather indecent--unless, of course, you do it very nicely, like that
young herring. When you go and look at a horse you don't ask how its
sweetbread is arranged, or what is the principle of its liver. Then
why should you...?
Well, here we are, and very comfortable too. But why does none of
these cars have any means of communication between the owner and
the man next to the chauffeur? There is always a telephone to the
chauffeur, but none to the overflow guest on the box. So that when the
host sees an old manor-house which he thinks the guest hasn't noticed
he has to hammer on the glass and do semaphore; and the guest thinks
he is being asked if he is warm enough.
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