Give them their heads, and tell them what time you want to get home, and that is all they ask.

While Edwin leans from his saddle to whisper the dear old nothings in Angelina's ear, while Angelina's face, to hide its blushes, is turned towards the horizon at the back, the magic bicycles pursue their even course.
And the sun is always shining and the roads are always dry.

No stern parent rides behind, no interfering aunt beside, no demon small boy brother is peeping round the corner, there never comes a skid.

Ah me! Why were there no "Britain's Best" nor "Camberwell Eurekas" to be hired when _we_ were young?
Or maybe the "Britain's Best" or the "Camberwell Eureka" stands leaning against a gate; maybe it is tired.

It has worked hard all the afternoon, carrying these young people.