"I should like to find out if it's still for sale," she said to herself,
gazing back admiringly. "Why shouldn't I have a motor of my own?"

As the Model trundled her out of sight, a man walked round the corner,
and, springing into the yellow car, took the driver's seat.




XI

THE MAN AT THE WHEEL


Nick had not been visiting the Mission that day. But he had been there
before, gabbling fluent Spanish with the verger. This was more than Angela
could do, though she knew the cathedrals of Spain! In the morning Nick had
made an early start with his new car, and, after four long days of
constant practice, at last he experienced the joy of confidence in
himself, at the wheel. He was now licensed to drive, and the yellow
automobile was his, body and soul.

The chauffeur, a reedy and extremely young youth, with a sharp nose and a
keen sense of humour, had scraped acquaintance with Sealman. Without
giving away any information on his side, he had always contrived to find
out, if not where the Model was going, at least where it was hoped she
might go. It was to be Riverside to-day; and after a preliminary spin from
six to eight, Nick had been lingering near the Mission, paying a friendly
visit to the owner of the Big Grapevine and the Trained Owls. This man was