It being necessary, of course, to leave a chaperon with Bettina, because
of the Jasper person's habit of coming over at any hour of the day, we
left Aggie with instructions to watch them both.

Tish and I drove to the drug store together, and from there to a garage
for gasoline. I have never learned to say "gas" for gasoline. It seems
to me as absurd as if I were to say "but" for butter. Considering that
Aggie was quite sulky at being left, it is absurd for her to assume an
air of virtue over what followed that day. Aggie was only like a lot of
people--good because she was not tempted; for it was at the garage that
we met Mr. Ellis.

We had stopped the engine and Tish was quarreling with the man about
the price of gasoline when I saw him--a nice-looking young man in a
black-and-white checked suit and a Panama hat. He came over and stood
looking at Tish's machine.

"Nice lines to that car," he said. "Built for speed, isn't she? What do
you get out of her?"

Tish heard him and turned. "Get out of her?" she said. "Bills mostly."

"Well, that's the way with most of them," he remarked, looking steadily
at Tish. "A machine's a rich man's toy. The only way to own one is to
have it endowed like a university. But I meant speed. What can you
make?"

"Never had a chance to find out," Tish said grimly. "Between nervous
women in the machine and constables outside I have the twelve-miles-an-