id above your clothes."

"A contrast to my beauty, not so? Fix my cravat, please, ma'am; I can't
see the thing. But his face wasn't dirty, for I washed it."

"Why should I fix your wet cravat? Hold my gloves, then. Where is your
scarf-pin? Stolen by your tramp, I suppose."

Gerard had joined Flavia, but neither yet had spoken, watching the
cousins. They had not the fluent familiarity of intercourse possessed by
the two who looked and acted very like a pair of handsome boys.
Moreover, Gerard distrusted himself, fearing to say too much, too soon.
He was approaching Flavia carefully and delicately as a man striving to
close his hand on some frail, elusive creature whose capture he scarcely
dares hope possible. And she gave him no help. Her frank gentleness and
impersonal cordiality gave neither encouragement nor discouragement, no
foothold smooth or rough.

The actual position he had never even conceived; the fact that she was
completely unconscious of his desire to woo her. He had no way of
knowing that it was his attitude toward Isabel she considered in all his
words and acts, remembering her cousin's confident appropriation of the
guest. It was of Isabel that she spoke now, while Gerard hesitated for
the right word to offer the girl beside him.

"The roads were very wet and slippery," she remarked. "If Isabel were
not a good driver, I think we would have found ourselves in a ditch.
Indeed," her soft mouth dimpled into a smile, "once I thought we were in
one. One wheel _was_. But we wiggled out again. Mr. Rupert wanted to put
the chains on the wheels, but she said we did not need them."

The thought of Isabel over-ruling the judgment of his racing mechanician
unsteadied Gerard's gravity.

"A coarse masculine hand is needed on the wheel, to-day," he confirmed,
with ulterior intention. "I believe we had better divide our party
differently, on the way back. Let me drive one car and Corrie or Rupert
the other. I'll promise not to take any ditches, if you consent."

"Great scheme," Corrie called, overhearing. "I'll take the red near-car
home, Isabel."

"No, indeed," Isabel vetoed decidedly. "Mr. Gerard is going to take me
home and I shall learn a lot from watching him drive. You can take
Flavia in your roadster; Mr. Rupert will ride in the rumble seat."

Being a gentleman, Gerard compelled his expression to evidence pleasant
acquiescence. But he was not soothed by the unclouded smile Flavia sent
her designated esco