He lighted his bicycle-lamp, bounced the machine on the barn floor to see that the tyres were sound, and buttoned his coat.
“That’s all right!” he said.
She was trying the brakes, that she knew were broken.
“Did you have them mended?” she asked.
“No!”
“But why didn’t you?”
“The back one goes on a bit.”
“But it’s not safe.”
“I can use my toe.”
“I wish you’d had them mended,” she murmured.