knows. We passed through many places twice, some places three
times, in careering about. Each time we called on friends;
sometimes they were in, sometimes out; it was all so casual,--a
cup of tea, a little chat, sometimes without shutting down the
motor,--the briefest of calls, all the more charming because
brief,--really, it was strange.

We see a town ahead; calling to a man by the roadside,--

"What place is that?"

"L--" is the long drawn shout as we go flying by.

"Why, the S___s live there. I have not seen her since we were at
school. I would like to stop."

"Well, just for a moment."

In a trice the machine is at the door; Mrs. S___ is out--will
return in a moment; so sorry, cannot wait, leave cards; call again
some other day; and we turn ten or fifteen or twenty miles to one
side to see another old school-friend for five or ten minutes
--just long enough for the chauffeur to oil-up while the
school-mates chat.

The automobile annihilates time; it dispenses with watch and
clock; it vaguely notes the coming up and the going down of the
sun; but it goes right on by sunlight, by moonlight, by lamplight,
by no light at all, until it is brought to a stand-still or
capriciously stops of its own accord.