That he could handle one if the opportunity came, he showed. They watched the car gliding round the corner, the girl with a little frown gathering between her eyes, Dick Gordon oblivious to everything except that he had snatched a few minutes’ closer association with the girl. He was behaving absurdly, he told himself. He, a public official, an experienced lawyer, was carrying on like an irresponsible, love-smitten youth of nineteen. The girl’s words emphasized his folly. “I wish you hadn’t let Ray drive,” she said. “It doesn’t help a boy who is always wanting something better, to put him in charge of a beautiful car . . . perhaps you don’t understand me. Ray is very ambitious and dreams in millions. A thing like this unsettles him.” The older man came out at that moment, a black pipe between his teeth, and, seeing the two at the gate, a cloud passed over his face. “Let him drive your car, have you?” he said grimly. “I wish you hadn’t—it was very kind of you, Mr. Gordon, but in Ray’s case a mistaken kindness.” “I’m very sorry,” said the penitent Dick. “Here he comes!” The big car spun toward them and halted before the gate. “She’s a beauty!” Ray Bennett jumped out and looked at the machine with admiration and regret. “My word, if she were mine!” “She isn’t,” snapped the old man, and then, as though regretting his petulance: “Some day perhaps you’ll own a fleet, Ray—are you going to London, Mr. Gordon?” Dick nodded. “Maybe you wouldn’t care to stop and eat a very frugal meal with us?” asked the elder Bennett, to his surprise and joy. “And you’ll be able to tell this foolish son of mine that owning a big car isn’t all joy-riding.” Dick’s first impression was of the girl’s astonishment. Apparently he was unusually honoured, and this was confirmed after John Bennett had left them. “You’re the first boy that has ever been asked to dinner,” she said when they were alone. “Isn’t he, Ray?” Ray smiled. “Dad doesn’t go in for the social life, and that’s a fact,” he said. “I asked him to have Philo Johnson down for a week-end, and he killed the idea before it was born. And the old philosopher is a good fellow and the boss’s confidential secretary. You’ve heard of Maitlands Consolidated, I suppose?” Dick nodded. The marble palace on the Strand Embankment in which the fabulously rich Mr. Maitland operated, was one of the show buildings of London. “I’m in his office—exchange clerk,” said the young man, “and Philo could do a whole lot for me if dad would pull out an invitation. As it is, I seem doomed to be a clerk for the rest of my life.” The white hand of the girl touched his lips. “You’ll be rich some day, Ray dear, and it is foolish to blame daddy.” The young man growled something under the hand, and then laughed a little bitterly. “Dad has tried every get-rich-quick scheme that the mind and ingenuity of man——” “And why?” The voice was harsh, tremulous with anger. None of them had noticed the reappearance of John Bennett.