Donald was faintly pleased by this unusual attentiveness. He was one of those extraordinary persons who never ride when it is possible to walk; on the other hand, he seldom turned away from the chance of a good talk about himself. And he was very short of time now, too, owing to his detention at the Wings'. So he stepped into the limousine, his manner abstracted and distinctly consequential. Charles, smiling slightly to himself, gave the address, and prompted:-- "You're just back, aren't you?" "And off again at five twenty-two. And I've got two hours' unpacking and repacking to do before then." "You _are_ a traveler these days! What's this," inquired Charles, innocently--"another business trip?" "House-party at the Kingsleys', down at Hatton. Tell your boy to skip along there, Charlie. I'm in a rush." Amiably, Charles spoke into the mouthpiece: "Skip along there, Eustace. Mr. Manford's in a rush." And resuming he said, with an air of honest envy: "At the Kingsleys'! By George, that sounds pretty good! Congenial crowd, winter sports, dancing every night--you're in luck! Who's going along?" Donald named the guests. It did not escape the observant Charles that he named Miss Carson last, after a perceptible pause and in a manner clumsily careless. Nothing escaped Charles, not Donald's sober face, certainly not the fact that he had just come from the Wings'. Now, with a thrill of satisfaction, he understood that Mary had been talking to the young light-o'-love at last, giving him to understand plainly where his duty lay. And this look of Donald's was precisely the right look, too: just the intensely self-important, nervous, faintly complacent, highly worried look of a man who has suddenly learned that he is going to be married directly. He gave the strong Mary another large credit-mark, and continued: "Three days with that crowd!--how I'd like to get in! As for poor old Talbott--ha, ha!--he'll foam at the mouth when I tell him about this." "What's he got to do with it?" "Why, I thought you'd heard! Miss Carson knocked him flat with one look--that lunch of mine! He can't see anybody else since, poor chap. But he admits he doesn't make any time at all." "She's not the kind that takes to any whippersnapper that comes along." His odious smugness delighted Charles. So did his fidgeting about, his hasty glances at his watch, his long solemn stares at himself in the little mirror. "Poor old Talbott swears she must be interested in somebody else," laughed Charles. "But he confessed he couldn't think of a man he knew who'd be at all likely to interest a girl like that--I either." And then, not to overdo it, he said interestedly: "But, Donald, what about Blake & Steinert?"