, offered no protest.
And then George reflected: "And why not? Why shouldn't she have a _creme
de menthe_?" When Laurencine raised the tiny glass to her firm, large
mouth, George thought that the sight of the young virginal thing tasting
a liqueur was a fine and a beautiful sight.

"It's just heavenly!" murmured Laurencine ecstatically.

Miss Wheeler was gazing at George.

"What's the matter?" he demanded, smiling, and rested one elbow on the
table and looked enigmatically through the smoke of his cigar.

"I was just wondering about you," said Miss Wheeler. Her voice, always
faint, had dropped to a murmur which seemed to expire as it reached
George's ear.

"Why?" He was flattered.

"I've been wanting to see you."

"Really!" he laughed, rather too loudly. "What a pity I didn't know
earlier!" He was disturbed as well as flattered, for such a remark from
such a person as Irene Wheeler to such a person as himself was bound to
be disturbing. His eyes sought audaciously to commune with hers, but
hers were not responsive; they were entirely non-committal.

"You _are_ the man that wouldn't let my friend Lois drive him in my car,
aren't you?"

"Yes," he said defiantly, but rather guiltily. "Did she tell you about
that? It's an awful long time ago."

"She told me something about it."

"And you've remembered it all this long while!"

"Yes," she answered, and her thin, queer tone and her tepid, impartial
glance had the effect of a challenge to him to justify himself.

"And don't you think I was quite right?" he ventured.

"She drives very well." It was not the sort of answer he was expecting.
His desire was to argue.

"She didn't drive very well then," he said, with conviction.

"Was that a reason for your leaving her to drive home alone?"

Women were astounding!

"She ought to have let the chauffeur drive," he maintained.

"Ah! A man mustn't expect too much from a woman."

"But I was risking my life in that car! Do you mean to say I ought to
have kept on risking it?"

"I don't express any opinion on that. That was for you to decide.... You
must admit it was very humiliating for poor Lois."

He felt himself cornered, but whether justly or unjustly he was
uncertain.

"Was she vexed?"

"No, she wasn't vexed. Lois isn't the woman to be vexed. But I have an
idea she was a little hurt."

"Did she say so?"

"Say so? Lois? She'd never say anything against anybody. Lois is a
perfect angel.... Isn't she, L