was Clem Sypher, pink and strong, appealing to her with his quick eyes;
there was the sunshine and the breathless blue of the sky; and there was
Septimus Dix, a faithful bodyguard. She wavered and turned to Septimus.

"What do you say?"

She was lost. Septimus murmured something inconclusive. Sypher triumphed.
She went indoors to get her coat and veil. Sypher admiringly watched her
retreating figure--a poem of subtle curves--and shrugging himself into his
motor coat, which the chauffeur brought him from the car, he turned to
Septimus.

"Look here, Mr. Dix, I'm a straight man, and go straight to a point. Don't
be offended. Am I in the way?"

"Not in the least," said Septimus, reddening.

"As for me, I don't care a hang for anything in the universe save Sypher's
Cure. That's enough for one man to deal with. But I like having such a
glorious creature as Mrs. Middlemist in my car. She attracts attention; and
I can't say but what I'm not proud at being seen with her, both as a man
and a manufacturer. But that's all. Now, tell me, what's in your mind?"

"I don't think I quite like you--er--to look on Mrs. Middlemist as an
advertisement," said Septimus. To speak so directly cost him considerable
effort.

"Don't you? Then I won't. I love a man to speak straight to me. I respect
him. Here's my hand." He wrung Septimus's hand warmly. "I feel that we are
going to be friends. I'm never wrong. I hope Mrs. Middlemist will allow me