“A hit!” he exclaimed. “Yes, I suppose that’s horribly true—you’re kind enough not to have shown me how I bored you, and so—I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself.” “It’s not that at all,” Marian retorted, putting a touch of anger into her voice. “That’s rude of you; it’s calling me deliberately insincere and also pointing out that what I’ve said might just as well have been unsaid for all you heard or noticed it.” “Mrs. Squire, ’pon my honor you’re taking things—seriously; you’re not really angry——?” “Yes, I am. I am. I was enjoying myself, and you suddenly—Please drive on, quick, quick. You can’t talk if you go quick, and then shan’t _I_ bore _you_.” “But really, Mrs. Squire, I——” “Please drive on—quick!” Marian interrupted. “She’s a masterful little devil,” West thought, as he obeyed her orders, and he also decided that Maddison was a lucky devil. A woman who is difficult to win or a man who has won is usually likened to the greatest of the fallen angels. The devil has many unconscious admirers and there are many who envy him. West slowed down again when they were nearing home. “There! Wasn’t I good?” he asked. “I obeyed orders like a lamb. Have you forgiven me?” “No, I haven’t,” Marian answered, with a catch in her voice as she went on: “it’s not easy to forgive anyone who smashes up a pleasant time——” “But, Mrs. Squire, really I didn’t do anything much——” “Much! You said the wrong thing and it jarred; that’s all, but it’s a good deal when you’re really enjoying yourself. Here we are home, and there’s George. Don’t forget your promise, if you get a chance of speaking to him.” “But I didn’t promise——” “Well, keep it all the same—just to show you’re sorry for what you’ve done. I was going to thank you for the ride, but I shan’t now.” Maddison helped Marian to alight, and welcomed West warmly. “Go and put your box of tricks up at the garage and come back here to tea? Good! Then we’ll expect you in a quarter of an hour at most; don’t stop down there discussing motor mysteries.” “I hope you didn’t think it horrid of me to go out for a run with Mr. West; I thought the blow might do my head good.” “And has it, sweetheart?” he asked, as he nestled her head against his shoulder and kissed her. “I do hope it has. I hate you having any pain.” “Yes, dear, it’s quite gone away—but—you asked Mr. West to tea and there won’t be any for him if—you insist on going on in this way!” She broke away from him, laughing merrily, and slammed the parlor door and locked it in his face as he ran after her, calling to him: “Cook won’t have you in her kitchen! I must attend to the kettle and not to you for once!”