Reason made one more vain cry as she paused at the door below to draw on her gloves. “You have refused every invitation to see or know the unconventional world into which thousands of women in New York, clear-eyed and unafraid, enter daily. You'd sooner die than pose an hour in Gordon's studio, and on a Sabbath morning you cut your church and go on a day's wild ride with a man you have known but fifteen hours!” And the voice inside quickly answered: “But that's different! Gordon's a married man. My chevalier is not! I have the right to go, and he has the right.” It was settled anyhow before this little controversy arose at the street door, but the ready answer she gave eased her conscience and cleared the way for a happy, exciting trip. He leaped from the big, ugly racer to help her in, stopped and looked at her light clothing. “That's your heaviest coat?” “Yes. It isn't cold.” “I've one for you.” He drew an enormous fur coat from the car and held it up for her arms. “You think I'll need that?” she asked. His white teeth gleamed in a friendly smile. “Take it from me, Kiddo, you certainly will!” She winced just a little at the common expression, but he said it with such a quick, boyish enthusiasm, she wondered whether he were quoting the expression from the Bowery boy's vocabulary or using it in a facetious personal way. “I knew you'd need it. So I brought it for you,” he added genially. “Thanks,” she murmured, lifting her arms and drawing the coat about her trim figure. He helped her into the car and drew from his pocket a light pair of goggles. “Now these, and you're all hunky-dory!” “Will I need these, too?” she asked incredulously. “Will you!” he cried. “You wouldn't ask that question if you knew the horse we've got hitched to this benzine buggy today. He's got wings--believe me! It's all I can do to hold him on the ground sometimes.” “You'll drive carefully?” she faltered. He lifted his hand. “With you settin' beside me, my first name's `Caution.'” She fumbled the goggles in a vain effort to lift her arms over her head to fasten them on. He sprang into the seat by her side and promptly seized them. “Let me fix 'em.” His slender, skillful fingers adjusted the band and brushed a stray ringlet of hair back under the furs. The thrill of his touch swept her with a sudden dizzy sense of excitement. She blushed and drew her head down into the collar of the shaggy coat. He touched the wheel, and the gray monster leaped from the curb and shot down the street. The single impulse carried them to the crossing. He had shut off the power as the machine gracefully swung into Fourth Avenue. The turn made, another leap and the car swept up the Avenue and swung through Twenty-sixth Street into Fifth Avenue. Again the power was off as he made the turn into Fifth Avenue at a snail's pace. “Can't let her out yet,” he whispered apologetically. “Had to make these turns. There's no room for her inside of town.”