row."

The driver looked over at him and their eyes laughed together. Now,
for the first time, the girl noticed that across the shoulders of both
men's jerseys ran in silver letters the name of a famous foreign
automobile.

"I am very grateful, indeed," she said bravely and graciously. "I wish
I could say more, or say it better. The journey will be short, now."

But all her dignity could not check the frightened shrinking of her
glance, first toward the interior of the limousine and then toward the
man who was to enter there with her. And the driver of the gray
machine saw it.

"We have done very little," he returned. "May I put you in your car?"

The chauffeur was gathering his tools, speechlessly outraged, and
making ready to start. Seated among the rugs and cushions, under the
light of the luxurious car, the girl deliberately drew off her glove
and held out her small uncovered hand to the driver of the gray
machine.

"Thank you," she said again, meeting his eyes with her own, whose
darkness contrasted oddly with the blonde curls clustered under her
hood.

"You are not afraid to drive into the city alone?" he asked.

"Alone! Why, my cousin--"

"Your cousin is going to stay with me."

She flung back her head; amazement, question, relief struggled over
her sensitive face, and finally melted into irrepressible mirth under
the fine amusement of his regard.

"You are clever--and kind, to do that! No, I am not afraid."

He closed the door.

"Take your mistress home," he bade the chauffeur. "Crank for him,
Rupert."

"Why, why--" stammered the limousine's other passenger, turning as the
motor started.

No one heeded him.

"By-by, don't break any records," Rupert called after the chauffeur.
"Hold yourself in, do. If you shed any more tires, telegraph for me,
and if I'm within a day's run I'll come put them on for you and save
you time."

Silence closed in again, as the red tail-light vanished around a bend.
The gray car's driver nodded curtly to the stupefied youth in the
middle of the road.

"Unless you want to stay here all night, you'd better get in the
machine," he suggested. "My name's Lestrange--I suppose yours is
Ffrench?"

"Dick Ffrench. But, see here, you mean well, but I'm going with my
cousin. I'd like a drive with you, but I'm busy."

"You're not fit to go with your cousin."

"Not--"

"Fit," completed Lestrange definitely. "Can you hang on somewhere,
Rupert?"

"I can," Rupert assu