Poised on one foot, and holding firmly to his shoulders, Nan sailed down the High Street in the full glare of the lamps.

It was not a dignified mode of progression, but it was very far from being ungraceful.
She wore a little white fur cap on her dark hair, and her pretty face laughed beneath it like the face of a merry child.

The danger of her position was a consideration that never occurred to her.

She was in her wildest mood, and enjoying herself to the utmost.
The warning hoot of a motor behind her dismayed her not at all.
"Hurry up, Jerry! Don't let them pass!" she urged.
And Jerry put his whole heart into his pedalling and bore her at the top of his speed.
It was an exciting race, but ending, as such races are bound to end, in the triumph of the motor.

The great machine overtook them steadily, surely.