There was mischief in the eyes of Grace Harlowe as she climbed into the driver’s seat, an expression that J. Elfreda understood full well was a sure forecast of trouble to come. The road was greatly congested, and for a time the driver worked her way cautiously along at a rate of speed of not more than ten miles an hour. “Faster! Are you too timid to drive?” cried the passenger. At this juncture an opening presented itself, a narrow space between two army trucks, and an officer’s car tearing along behind her at a terrific pace was reaching for the opening. Grace opened up and hurled her car at the opening as if it were a projectile on its way to the enemy lines. The two cars touched hubs. Grace fed a little more gas and went into the opening a winner. “Stop it!” shouted Mrs. Chadsey Smythe. Ahead there were open spots and Grace made for them, dodging, swerving, the car careening, the horn sounding until the drivers ahead, thinking a staff officer was coming, made all the room they could for the charging army automobile. Madame was expostulating, threatening, jouncing about until speech became an unintelligible stutter. Reaching a clear stretch of road, by clever manipulation Grace sent the car into a series of skids that would have excited the envy of a fighting aviator. That it did not turn over was because there was no obstruction in the road to catch the tires and send the car hurtling into the ditch. “For the love of Heaven, stop it, Grace Harlowe!” gasped Miss Briggs. “I’m on the verge of nervous prostration. You’ll have us all in the hospital or worse.” Grace grinned but made no reply. She straightened up a little as the officer’s car finally shot past her, and it was then that she saw she had been racing with a general, though she did not know who the general might be. She hoped he did not know who it was that had cut him off, but of course he could not expect her to look behind her when driving in that tangle of traffic. That was good logic, so she devoted her attention and thought wholly to the work in hand, and, putting on more speed, rapidly drew up on the charging automobile ahead, reasoning that the general would have a fairly clear road, which road would be hers provided she were able to keep up with him. Ahead of them a short distance she espied a concrete bridge. There was a concrete barrier on either side of the bridge, but the bridge was amply wide to permit two vehicles to pass. The general’s car took the bridge at high speed, army trucks drawing to their right so as to leave him plenty of room. Grace followed, driving at the bridge at top speed, but when within a few yards of the structure a truck driver swayed over past the center of the span, evidently not having heard her horn.