sure
needed below."

In the empty paved space before the hotel, the Mercury Titan still
reposed its massive bulk, with its driver in his seat, his fair head
uncovered in the pink-and-gold light and his face turned to the man who
stood beside the car. There was neither heat nor resentment in either
Mr. Rose's expression or his son's as the older man came over to shake
hands with Gerard. Corrie did not move; his left arm was thrown about
the neck of the huge dog reared up beside him against the machine.

"I'm glad to see you looking so well," Mr. Rose briefly greeted. "I have
been talking to Corrie, here, while we waited for you, Gerard, but this
thing won't do."

"What won't do, Mr. Rose?" Gerard questioned, equally matter-of-fact.

"You know, and Corrie knows. I appreciate the way you have stood by him
and the way he has kept to his work--I'm proud of it--but this isn't a
question of how any of us three feel. I am sorry to hurt him, but we
have got to face facts. A man who loses his temper is not fit for
certain places; a race track is one."

"The Corrie Rose whom I know and who trained under me is fit for any
place," Gerard gravely maintained. The work of months was on the verge
of loss; he gauged very exactly what this sentence would result in for
Flavia's brother.

Mr. Rose glanced towards his son; if his powerful, square-cut face was
inflexible, it was without hardness.

"Gerard, I am sorry," he repeated. "It's like you to overlook what
happened to yourself and try him again; he and I have got more to
consider and to be responsible for. He might race straight for years,
yes, forever; but his temper might slip him to-morrow. I know he means
right, but it can't be chanced. I'll risk seeing no more men picked up
as you were. Corrie, whenever I've said must--that hasn't been
often--you've answered. I think you will now. Get off that machine and
come home with me, my boy; we will try a fresh start, you and I."

Corrie stirred slightly; even his lips were gray and dark circles
appeared suddenly stamped beneath his eyes. He offered no defence or
demur, but before his movement could spell obedience Gerard had sprung
across the intervening space and dropped his left hand on the driver's
arm, forcing him to retain his seat.

"Stay there," he commanded curtly. "You are my employee, under contract
to drive my cars this season; if you break your signed agreement I will
bring you up before the A.M.A. board and have yo