would keep me standing here
forever. I had no idea you were so--contentious. _Please_ help me in,
and _please_ have my trunk brought over. Here is my check. Then, if
you insist, we can discuss the propriety of trunks on our way to the
clubhouse."

I hesitated; but I gave her my arm, and, when she had settled herself
in the seat beside the driver's, I walked over to where the agent
stood beside the guns and a steamer trunk of modest size. I picked up
the guns and told him to bring over the trunk. Together we put it into
the tonneau, the while I debated with myself what to do and what to
say. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be small choice. The lady
was plainly determined to listen to no explanations. Moreover, to
attempt to make her mistake clear to her just now was to place her in
an embarrassing predicament; for whoever was to have met her had
failed to appear, and already the station master had began to
extinguish the lights. I caught at her words "the clubhouse." That
could be none other than the Agawan. Well, I would take her there; the
trip should be quickly made, and I would do my best to keep her in
ignorance of my identity, at least until she was among friends.

"Now, this is very nice," she said, as I threw in the high gear and we
shot into the darkness. "I've never been in an automobile before; we
have very few of them in"--she named a little town in the South. "You
must explain everything to me."

I welcomed the invitation, and promised myself to keep the topic alive
as long as there was need for conversation. But I had hardly begun an
enthusiastic exposition of the principles of a four-cylinder,
gear-driven, twenty-horse-power, French touring car, when she checked
me. "I forgot," she said. "We have never met before. We must start
fair. You are to call me 'Margery'; I hate 'Miss Gans' from one who is
really an old friend. And I shall call you--let me see?--yes, for the
present, I shall call you 'Mr. Page.'"

I started. Who would not have started? "Page" is my Christian name.
And I was to call her "Margery"? For just the briefest moment I
wondered if my first impression of my companion could have been amiss.
But I rallied my self-command and such shreds of gallantry as my life
and my convictions had left. Undeniably she was a pretty girl, despite
the disguising veil.

"It is a bargain," I said. "I shall hold you to it. But why the
'_Mister_ Page'?"

"Toll to convention," she answered. "Besides, w