it's pretty early, isn't it? No time for a good time, or
anything."

"I fancy Nature meant men to marry young, don't you? It saves a lot
of--complications."

"The girl a fellow marries at that age isn't often the one he'd marry
at thirty," said Graham. And feeling that he had said the wrong thing,
changed the subject quickly. Clayton did not try to turn it back into
its former channel. The boy was uncomfortable, unresponsive. There was a
barrier between them, of self-consciousness on his part, of evasion and
discomfort on Graham's.

On the way over they had sighted Delight in the new car. She had
tried to turn, had backed into a ditch and was at that moment ruefully
surveying a machine which had apparently sat down on its rear wheels
with its engine pointed pathetically skyward.

Delight's face fell when she recognized them.

"Of course it would have to be you," she said. "Of all the people who
might have seen my shame--I'm going on with you. I never want to see the
old thing again."

"Anything smashed?" Graham inquired.

"It looks smashed. I can't tell."

It was not until the car was out of the ditch, and Clayton had driven
off in Graham's car toward the club that Delight remembered her father's
voice the day he had told her Graham would teach her to drive. She
stiffened and he was quick to see the change in her manner. The total
damage was one flat tire, and while the engine was inflating it, he
looked at her. She had grown to be quite pretty. His eyes approved her.

"Better let me come round and give you a few lessons, Delight."

"I'd rather learn by myself, if you don't mind."

"You'll have a real smash unless you learn properly."

But she remained rather obstinately silent.

"What's the matter with me, Delight? You're not exactly crazy about me,
are you?"

"That's silly. I don't know anything about you any more."

"That's your fault. You know I've been away for four years, and since
I came back I haven't seen much of you. But, if you'll let me come
round--"

"You can come if you like. You'll be bored, probably."

"You're being awfully nasty, you know. Here I come to pull you out of
a ditch and generally rescue you, and--Come, now, Delight, what is it?
There's something. We used to be pals."

"I don't know, Graham," she said truthfully. "I only know--well, I hear
things, of course. Nothing very bad. Just little things. I wish you
wouldn't insist. It's idiotic. What does it matter what I think