"Of course," she said.
"I thought perhaps you had let that rash young Swift influence you."
"Speedy means well," she defended.
"He's got me all wrong," said Carter. "I believe—he's jealous."
Jane smiled uneasily. Carter's arm had stolen around her slim shoulder and was pressing her toward him. She had a mad impulse to shout to the driver to stop, to fling herself out of the taxi. But, she thought, that would be silly. She was no child. Besides, De Lacey Street could not be over five minutes away now.
The pressure on her shoulder increased. He was drawing her to him. She pulled herself impulsively away.
"Please don't do that, Mr. Carter," she pleaded.
"I beg your pardon," he apologized and, removing his arm, slid over to the other side of the seat. "You—made me forget myself. I've grown to like you so. I want to protect and father you, now that your grandfather has gone and young Swift has apparently deserted you."
She said nothing. Perhaps he meant no harm. He seemed so sincerely contrite now.
She did not know the disappointment that was welling up in Carter's sinister breast. He prided himself on his prowess with the ladies and he was loath to admit defeat in the case of this innocent, though very desirable girl. He decided he had been too precipitous. He would bide his time. It should be easier to win her, now that the old man and that
