-girls, and the cars were jammed with
thousands more, all of them thinking, no doubt, of the same two
things--something to eat and relaxation.

What a hive it was, this great street! And how scant the lives of the
great majority! Working, eating, sleeping, marrying and given in
marriage, bearing children and dying--was that all? "But growing, too,"
said Orme to himself. "Growing, too." Would this be the sum of his own
life--that of a worker in the hive? It came to him with something of an
inner pang that thus far his scheme of things had included little more.
He wondered why he was now recognizing this scantiness, this lack in his
life.

He came out of his revery to find himself again at the Madison Street
corner. Again he seemed to see that beautiful girl in the car, and to
hear the music of her voice.

How could he best set about to find her? She might be, like himself, a
visitor in the city. But there was the touring-car. Well, she might have
run in from one of the suburbs. He could think of no better plan than to
call that evening on the Wallinghams and describe the unknown to Bessie
and try to get her assistance. Bessie would divine the situation, and she
would guy him unmercifully, he knew; but he would face even that for
another glimpse of the girl of the car.

And at that moment he was startled by a sharp explosion. He looked to the
street. There was the black car, bumping along with one flat tire. The
girl threw on the brakes and came to a stop.

In an instant Orme was in the street. If he thought that she would not
remember him, her first glance altered the assumption, for she looked
down at him with a ready smile and said: "You see, I do need you again,
after all."

As for Orme, he could think of nothing better to say than simply, "I am
glad." With that he began to unfasten the spare tire.

"I shall watch you with interest," she went on. "I know how to run a
car--though you might not think it--but I don't know how to repair one."

"That's a man's job anyway," said Orme, busy now with the jack, which was
slowly raising the wheel from the pavement.

"Shall I get out?" she asked. "Does my weight make any difference?"

"Not at all," said Orme; but, nevertheless, she descended to the street
and stood beside him while he worked. "I didn't know there were all those
funny things inside," she mused.

Orme laughed. Her comment was vague, but to him it was enough just to
hear her voice. He had got the wheel