of which Don
Antonio Moliterno would have wholly approved. Besides, these were
as comfortable as the others, and so like them as even to confirm
Ray's statement concerning "A Reading from Homer": evidently this
work had been purchased by the edition.

A boy came to announce that his "roadster" waited for him at the
hotel entrance, and Corliss put on a fur motoring coat and cap,
and went downstairs. A door leading from the hotel bar into the
lobby was open, and, as Corliss passed it, there issued a mocking
shout:

"Tor'dor! Oh, look at the Tor'dor! Ain't he the handsome
Spaniard!"

Ray Vilas stumbled out, tousled, haggard, waving his arms in
absurd and meaningless gestures; an amused gallery of tipplers
filling the doorway behind him.

"Goin' take Carmen buggy ride in the country, ain't he? Good ole
Tor'dor!" he quavered loudly, clutching Corliss's shoulder. "How
much you s'pose he pays f' that buzz-buggy by the day, jeli'm'n?
Naughty Tor'dor, stole thousand dollars from me--makin'
presents--diamond cresses. Tor'dor, I hear you been playing cards.
Tha's sn't nice. Tor'dor, you're not a goo' boy at all--_you_ know
you oughtn't waste Dick Lindley's money like that!"

Corliss set his open hand upon the drunkard's breast and sent him
gyrating and plunging backward. Some one caught the grotesque
figure as it fell.

"Oh, my God," screamed Ray, "I haven't got a gun on me! He _knows_
I haven't got my gun with me! _Why_ haven't I got my gun with me?"

They hustled him away, and Corliss, enraged and startled, passed
on. As he sped the car up Corliss Street, he decided to anticipate
his letter to Moliterno by a cable. He had stayed too long.

Cora looked charming in a new equipment for November motoring; yet
it cannot be said that either of them enjoyed the drive. They
lunched a dozen miles out from the city at an establishment
somewhat in the nature of a roadside inn; and, although its
cuisine was quite unknown to Cora's friend, Mrs. Villard (an eager
amateur of the table), they were served with a meal of such
unusual excellence that the waiter thought it a thousand pities
patrons so distinguished should possess such poor appetites.

They returned at about three in the afternoon, and Cora descended
from the car wearing no very amiable expression.

"Why won't you come in now?" she asked, looking at him angrily.
"We've got to talk things out. We've settled nothing whatever. I
want to know why you can't stop."

"I'v