“It’s a submerged—hitherto—part of your ego that hurts as much as anything else. It’s undergoing birth-pangs as well as your ill-treated body.” “I hate my body.” “I shouldn’t.” “Oh-h-h——” A groan of dismay. “I—I feel deathly sick.” “Lie down flat in the boat.” She obeyed precipitately. “Oh, I do feel dreadfully,” she moaned. “And I’ve—never—been—ill in my life.” “Don’t talk. I’ll give you brandy in a moment. I brought it along in case of a chill.” “Don’t tell me it’s in your hip-pocket!” She gasped. “I couldn’t stand that!” “It’s in the pocket of my sweater. You must be feeling better. Here, sit up and drink this.” She raised herself warily on an elbow and drank the brandy he had poured into the silver cup of his flask—a present from a grateful patient. She fell back again, but only for a moment. A swift wriggling movement and she was sitting erect at her end of the boat. “More beastly materialism,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t I have come all right by myself?” She stared at him resentfully, then gave a short laugh like a bark. “God! How romantic!” “We don’t need romance, my dear.” She sighed, laced her fingers, and stared at the bottom of the boat. Then she looked up at him and smiled. He caught his breath. A wavering dazed smile, that passed from her lips and melted in her eyes. “It’s all over—the resentment,” she said shyly. “And I’m glad—very glad——” “We land in a moment. Can you drive a car?” “Why—yes. Pretty well. Polly—and—others—have taught me.” “Get into mine. Throw out my ulster and cap. Leave it at the gates. Take yourself off as fast as you can.” “But——” “Do as I tell you. Leave it in the shade where it won’t be noticed. Here we are. Jump out.” CHAPTER XXV As she parked the car under an oak she heard Polly’s swift roadster approaching. She darted into the heavier shade of the avenue, but that figure in its long dark cape looked ominous to two girls alone on a deserted road at night. Polly put on her brakes and brought her car to a protesting halt. She cried out sharply: “Who’s there? I—I’ve got an automatic.” Gita was in no laughing mood, but she heard herself giggling. “It’s Gita!” exclaimed Elsie. “And that’s Geoffrey’s car.” “I’m in for it!” She sighed. “And I’d have given my immortal soul to be alone tonight.” She came out into the road. “Yes, it’s I. Been taking an airing.” “Where’s Geoffrey?” Polly’s voice was high. “Don’t know, I’m sure.” “That’s his car.” “Is it?” “You’ve been out with him. Don’t deny it.” Gita drew her hood over her face. “Why should I deny what you’ve no right to ask?” “No right!” “Certainly not. Sorry you caught me. Thought you’d telephoned to two of your heavies and were going to supper.” “Did. But Bob Hillier passed out—how’d you know I telephoned?” But Gita would not mention Geoffrey’s name. She turned and walked swiftly up the avenue.