"What do you bet?" asked the Duke.
She smiled flirtatiously in answer and Bertie stood forlorn, his nice pink complexion turning an ugly salmon colour. In a minute the white car was off, Miss Nelson beside the duke, the chauffeur like a small nut in a large shell, lolling in the tonneau. Bertie turned to us, and having looked kindly at me, sharply demanded of Jack where he was going.
"Mademoiselle has an errand."
"All! then I'll drive Mademoiselle. Wish I had a tenner for every time I 've driven an Aigle! You can sit inside, in case there 's work to do."
My eyes opened widely, but I said nothing. I glanced at Jack, and saw his face harden.
"I have been told to drive the car, and it is my duty to drive it unless I receive different orders," said he.
"I 'm giving you different orders," said Bertie.
"I take my orders only from the owner of the car."
"You 're beastly impertinent," snapped Bertie, "and I 'll report you to Sir Samuel."
"As you choose," returned Jack, turning the starting-handle.
"Why don't you say 'sir' when you speak to me? You don't seem to have trained into chauffeur manners yet."
"If I were your chauffeur, you would have the right to criticize. As I 'm not, and never will be, you have n't. Mademoiselle, the car 's ready. Will you get in?"
I jumped into my usual place, beside the driver's seat.
"Ah, you sit by the chauffeur, do you?" said Bertie. "I don't wonder he wants to keep his job."
