It need hardly be said that in taking this lofty moral position Greg was not wholly sincere. As a matter of fact he suspected that the Castilian youth would cut a very poor figure in a matter of this kind, and he had a not unnatural desire to show him up. "Very well, I'll tell him," she said crossly. "And I should be introduced to him." "Anything else?" she queried sarcastically. On the whole that drive home could not be considered a success. The very warmth of their feelings towards each other gave them a power to wound that they seemed to take a perverse pleasure in exercising to the full. But Greg thought of how it would be after she left him, and his heart sunk. As they drew near the Stickney Arms he made an effort to mend matters. "We don't seem to be getting on very well to-night." "I'm sure it's not my fault," she retorted with her chin in the air. This was not promising, but he persisted. "I'm sorry if I have been rude or rough. Forgive me, and admit that you were just a little bit to blame too." "I shall do nothing of the kind! I should never let any man take such a tone of command towards me, least of all a stranger. It's ridiculous!" "I'm sorry. Forgive me," said Greg again. "Oh, it's easy to ask forgiveness. You can't expect to make me as angry as you possibly can, and then have me turn around and forgive you for the asking." As the cab slowed down Greg said: "At least say good-night to me nicely." "I can't," she said. "You make me hate you." She marched across the pavement without a backward look. Greg for obvious reasons did not get out of the cab. As they turned back home he sighed. If he had been a better psychologist, or rather if the keenness of his feelings had not blinded him to the psychology of the desired one, he would not have been so cast down. CHAPTER XII WHAT THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK CONTAINED At eleven o'clock next morning a strange taxi-cab appeared in Gibbon Street and drew up before Bickle's grocery. From it stepped a figure so remarkable in that neighborhood that the little boys for the moment were too astonished even to deride it; to wit: Señor Henry Saunders in full regalia, a red carnation in his buttonhole. He picked his way gingerly into the store and looked about him with an expression of astonished rebuke that the common things of life should dare to approach so close. He inquired of Bessie for "Señor Greegoree Parr." Bessie not at all intimidated by his exquisiteness marched him out through the kitchen into the muddy yard where Greg in overalls, a sight for gods and men, was busy greasing and tightening up the flivver. "Oh, there is a mistake!" said Señor Saunders elevating his eyebrows. "It is for Señor Greegoree Parr that I ask." "That's me," said Greg inelegantly. "I know you of course. How are you?"