posed to such a rain. A wave of cold resentment
against Claybrook came over her and she sat staring straight in front
of her, lips tightly compressed, waiting.

It seemed an interminable time; in reality, in about ten minutes Joe's
head appeared at the door of the car and he climbed stiffly in.
Drenched he was from top to toe. The water streaked down his checks in
little streams; his clothes flapped and clung to him as though he had
been flung into the river; his cap was a sodden, pulpy mass. But he
chuckled as he slid over in behind the wheel.

"Guess I'll remember to bring my coat along next time."

She wanted to put her hand on his shoulder but she sat in stony
silence. And she noticed that he no longer drove with the same care as
before. She saw that he was giving little involuntary shivers,
watched the water drip with silent monotony from his cap on to the
back of the seat, making a slick, shiny spot there.

And then Claybrook broke the silence. "How will you split commission
with me if I take one of these cars?" He spoke heartily, as though he
wished to be friendly and cheerful.

Joe made no reply for a moment and when he did, his voice trembled
just a little. "We're not allowed to make that kind of a deal."

"Oh, I know that, and all that sort of thing. But they all _do_, just
the same." He reached over and gave Mary Louise a little shove on the
elbow, from which she recoiled.

Joe made no further reply; they waited for what he might say. And
directly Claybrook tried again:

"And how about my old car? Take that in, I suppose?"

"We'll take it and do the best we can to sell it for you," said Joe,
without looking back. The water still dripped from his cap on to the
cushion.

"Hum," muttered Claybrook, "Independent." And louder: "Two or three
other concerns will allow me good money on my car."

Joe made no reply.

When they arrived at the garage again, the rain had about stopped and
they drove in at the main entrance back into the general storage room.
Joe stood holding the tonneau door open for them, a ludicrous object
in his bedraggled clothes. He made no effort to assist Mary Louise but
stood there holding the door with an abstracted look on his face. All
the dash, all the sleekness was out of him. They both thanked him and
then Claybrook led the way to his own car which someone had brought in
out of the rain.

He turned to Joe once more--"I'll see you later"--thanked him again,
and started his m