It would have been an ill-humoured man indeed, whose eyes could have
rested upon her standing there and not have noted the charm of her
graceful figure, her face looking out at him from under a modishly
attractive hat. Ellen's smile, from under the shadowing brim, was as
whole-heartedly sweet as if she were meeting the look of worshipful
comradeship which usually fell upon her when she joined her husband on
any expedition whatever. Instead, she encountered something like a glower
from the hazel eyes, which did, however, as at breakfast, soften for an
instant at the moment of meeting hers.

"Jump in! I'm in a hurry," was his quite needless command, for she was
ready to take her place the instant the car drew to a standstill, and the
delay she made him was hardly appreciable.

In silence they drove to town, and at a pace which took them past
everything with which they came up, from lumbering farm-wagon to
motor-cars far more powerful and speedy than the Imp. Ellen found herself
well blown about by the wind they made, though there was none stirring,
and wished she had been dressed for driving instead of for shopping. But
the trip, if breezy, was brief, though it did not at once land her at her
destination.

Drawing up before a somewhat imposing residence, on the outskirts of the
city, Burns announced: "Can't take you in till I've made this call," and
stopped his engine with a finality which seemed to indicate that he
should be in no haste to start it again.

"It doesn't matter in the least. I shall enjoy sitting here," his wife
responded, still outwardly unruffled by his manner. She looked in vain
for his customary glance of leave-taking, and watched him stride away up