"How could you help it? Who'd expect a hulking brute like myself
to be ticklish?"

"You are awfully good," she countered more calmly.

"Don't say that. I'm a clumsy lout. But--" He held her gaze
inquiringly. "But may I ask--"

"Oh, of course--certainly: I am--was--bound for
Greenpoint-on-the-Sound--"

"Ten miles!" he interrupted.

The corners of her red lips drooped: her brows puckered with
dismay. Instinctively she glanced toward the waterbound car.

"What am I to do?" she cried. "Ten miles!... I could never walk
it, never in the world! You see, I went to town to-day to do a
little shopping. As we were coming home the chauffeur was arrested
for careless driving. He had bumped a delivery wagon over--it
wasn't really his fault. I telephoned home for somebody to bail
him out, and my father said he would come in. Then I dined,
returned to the police-station, and waited. Nobody came. I
couldn't stay there all night. I 'phoned to everybody I knew,
until my money gave out; no one was in town. At last, in
desperation, I started home alone."

Maitland nodded his comprehension. "Your father--?" he hinted
delicately.