The door
slammed-to, and I steered out for a fair roadway.
"There was a certain amount of outcry in the rear. But I opened-out
down the slope and soon had it well astern. We sailed past Hyde Park
Corner, down Knightsbridge, and cut along Brompton Road into Fulham
Road, and rounded into King's Road, cutting the kerb a trifle too
fine. Speed rather than direction being my object for the moment,
Otty, I rejoiced in a clear thoroughfare and let her rip for Putney
Bridge. There was a communication tube in the taxi, and for some
while it had been whistling in my ear, with calls and outcries in
high falsetto interjected between the blasts. 'Funny dog's
ventriloquising,' thought I, and paid no further attention to the
noises. Our pace was such, I couldn't be distracted from the
steering. . . . I was quite sober by this time: sober, but
considerably exhilarated.
"My spirit soared as we took the bridge with a rush, cleared the High
Street and breasted Putney Hill for the Heath. The night was clear,
with a southerly breeze. The stars shone, and I seemed to inhale all
the scents of a limitless prairie, wafted past the wind-screen from
the heath and the stretch of Wimbledon Common beyond.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137