a
lift of a mile down the road. We have to turn off there, but you'll be
less late for a luncheon that's probably already cold than you would be
after walking the whole distance. You won't refuse? You mustn't, for I
expect it's my only chance to get John Stone Leaver of Baltimore started.
Otherwise he'll stand here till mid-afternoon, showing you his watch and
pointing out to you the beauties of this noisy brook."

"Thank you, Dr. Burns, but you can't very well take me in a car built for
two."

"Can't I? The car has frequently carried half a dozen, judiciously
distributed over the running-boards, to the imminent peril of the tires
and springs. We'll put Dr. Leaver on the running-board. It will hurt
neither his clothes nor his dignity, and if it does he can get off and
walk."

He led the way. If she could have done so Charlotte would gladly have
turned and run away. But there are people from whom one cannot easily
run away, and Red Pepper Burns was one of them. With all his powers of
discernment, he had no possible notion that the two who followed him were
not eager to accept this arrangement. They looked well together, too, he
had observed as he neared them--exceedingly well. He was sure he was
doing them a favour in keeping them together as long as possible.

In point of actual distance he certainly succeeded literally in
keeping them extremely near together, during the few minutes it took to
get out of a winding wood-road to the main highway, and to drive at a
stimulating pace a mile down that road. When Leaver took his place upon
the running-board he was unavoidably close to Charlotte's knee, and his
head was within reach of her hand. His hand, grasping the only available
hold with which to keep himself in place, as Burns let the car go at high
speed, was close under her eyes.

Keeping his eyes upon the road, Burns, in a gay mood now, kept up a
running fire of talk, to which Charlotte, as became necessary, responded.
Leaver, straw hat in hand, also stared straight ahead, and Charlotte,
unobserved by either companion, looked at the head below her, its heavy,
dark-brown hair ruffled by the wind of their progress, noted--not for the
first time--the fine line of the partial profile, the shoulder in its
gray flannel, the well-knit hand, tanned, like its owner's face, with
much exposure. And, as she made these furtive observations, something
within her breast, which she had thought well under control, became
suddenly