spark. And the spark was the sight of the girl's costly
fur coat. He must have a costly fur coat, and a girl in it, and the girl
must treat the fur coat like a cheap rag. Otherwise he would die a
disappointed man.

"Hallo!" called Miss Ingram.

"Hallo!" She had climbed into the car, and turned her head to look at
him. He saw that she was younger even than he had thought. She seemed
quite mature when she was still, but when she moved she had the lithe
motions of immaturity. As a boy, he now infallibly recognized a girl.

"Which way are you going?"

"Well--Chelsea more or less."

"I'll give you a lift."

He ought to have said: "Are you sure I shan't be taking you out of your
way?" But he said merely: "Oh! Thanks awfully!"

The chauffeur held the door for him, and then arranged a fur rug over
the knees of the boy and the girl. To be in the car gave George intense
pleasure, especially when the contrivance thrilled into life and began
to travel. He was thankful that his clothes were as smart as they ought
to be. She could not think ill of his clothes--no matter who her friends
were.

"This is a great car," he said. "Had it long?"

"Oh! It's not mine," answered Miss Ingram. "It's Miss Wheeler's."

"Who's Miss Wheeler, if I may ask?"

"Miss Wheeler! She's a friend of mine. She lives in Paris. But she has a
flat in London too. I came over with her. We brought the car with us.
She was to have come to the Orgreaves's to-day, but she had a headache.
So I took the car--and her furs as well. They fit me, you see.... I say,
what's your Christian name? I hate surnames, don't you?"

"George. What's yours?"

"Mine's Lois."

"What? How do you spell it?"

She spelt it, adding 'Of course.' He thought it was somehow a very
romantic name. He decidedly liked the name. He was by no means sure,
however, that he liked the girl. He liked her appearance, though she was
freckled; she was unquestionably stylish; she had ascendancy; she
imposed herself; she sat as though the world was the instrument of her
individuality. Nevertheless he doubted if she was kind, and he knew that
she was patronizing. Further, she was not a conversationalist. At the
luncheon she had not been at ease; but here in the car she was at ease
absolutely, yet she remained taciturn.

"D'you drive?" he inquired.

"Yes," she said. "Look here, would you like to sit in front? And I'll
drive."

"Good!" he agreed vigorously. But he had a qualm about the safety