t care
about; and it isn't quite certain when we shall meet again. "We shall be
like bad pennies, always turning up," Mr. Norman said; and Mrs. West
added quickly to Mr. Somerled, "But if we do, you mustn't feel that
we're tracking you down. The exigencies of authorship force us to be
conscientious sight-seers."

As she spoke, she gave her brother a look. I don't know what it meant,
but his face had a sad, tired expression, as if there had been some
dispute or argument between him and his sister, and he was sick of it. I
don't feel, somehow, that he's in a good mood for their story-writing
together just now, and I'm sorry for him. I believe he would rather be
motoring with us than with her. Perhaps they have had a difference of
opinion about the plot of their book, for he told me in the summer-house
that he'd suddenly got a new idea for a motor romance, and had lost
interest in the old one.

When we were ready to start away from Carlisle Castle, Mr. Somerled
condemned Vedder to sit at his feet; but the man seemed to take this
quite for granted, and not to mind in the least. "Would one of you care
to sit beside me?" he asked with so wooden an expression that it was
impossible to guess whether he would prefer Mrs. James or me to say yes.
Selfishly, I wanted him to prefer me, and because he didn't seem to
mind, I pretended not to hear, but went on talking to Mr. Douglas as if
he were the most important person in the world. Suddenly I felt a kind
of power over him, as if I were a grown-up woman in a book, and could
make men take an interest in me. Still, I could quite well hear Mrs.
James answer that she was too great a coward for the front seat, but she
was sure I would love it. Mr. Somerled turned to me then, without
speaking, as if to wait for me to answer, and I couldn't help thinking,
by the look in his eyes, that he _had_ wanted me, in spite of the wooden
expression. So I stopped in the midst of a word to Mr. Douglas, and
said, as meekly as a trained dove, that I should like to sit in front.

"What a pity you haven't got a congenial, romantic companion in the car,
like that lad," said the Knight, rather sharply, "instead of a war-worn
veteran of over thirty."

"Oh, I'd rather have you, because I feel already as if I'd known you
always," I explained. "And do you know, it didn't seem to me there was
anything romantic about Mr. Douglas, except his name."

"In that case, you are a little flirt," said he, driving fast