He was inattentive, and I perceived that he was profoundly perturbed.

As Miss de Barral (she had moved out of sight) could not possibly approach the hotel door as long as we remained where we were I proposed that we should wait for the car on the other side of the street.

He obeyed rather the slight touch on his arm than my words, and while we were crossing the wide roadway in the midst of the lumbering wheeled traffic, he exclaimed in his deep tone, "I don't know which of these two is more mad than the other!" "Really!" I said, pulling him forward from under the noses of two enormous sleepy-headed cart-horses.

He skipped wildly out of the way and up on the curbstone with a purely instinctive precision; his mind had nothing to do with his movements.

In the middle of his leap, and while in the act of sailing gravely through the air, he continued to relieve his outraged feelings.
"You would never believe! They _are_ mad!" I took care to place myself in such a position that to face me he had to turn his back on the hotel across the road.