"
I pitied Lady Turnour because she was herself; I pitied Sir Samuel
because he was married to her; I pitied the people in the big hotel,
who spent their afternoons and evenings playing bridge with all the
windows hermetically sealed, while there was a world like this out of
doors; and I wasn't sure yet whether I pitied the chauffeur or not.
He didn't look particularly sorry for himself, as he took his seat on my
right. I was well out of his way, and he had the air of having forgotten
all about me, as he steered away from the hotel down the flower-bordered
avenue which led to the street.
"Anyhow," said I to myself, behind my little three-cornered talc window,
"whatever his faults may be, appearances are _very_ deceptive if he ever
tries to chuck me under the chin."
There we sat, side by side, shut away from our pastors and masters by a
barrier of glass, in that state of life and on that seat to which it had
pleased Providence to call us, together.
"We're far enough apart in mind, though," I told myself. Yet I found my
thoughts coming back to the man, every now and then, wondering if his
nice brown profile were a mere lucky accident, or if he were really
intelligent and well educated beyond his station.
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