POST-PRANDIAL
"But I have no arrangements" he stammered.
"Don't!" she insisted—as much as to say that he was fabricating and she knew it! "We must hurry, you know, because. … There, I've dropped my handkerchief! By the tree, there. Do you mind?"
"Of course not." He set off swiftly toward the point indicated, but on reaching it cast about vainly for anything in the nature of a handkerchief. In the midst of which futile quest a change of tempo in the motor's impatient drumming surprised him.
Startled, he looked up. Too late: the girl was in the seat, the car in motion—already some yards from the point at which he had left it. Dismayed, he strode forward, raising his voice in perturbed expostulation.
"But—I say!"
Over the rear of the seat a grey gauntlet was waved at him, as tantalizing as the mocking laugh that came to his ears.
He paused, thunderstruck, appalled by this monstrosity of ingratitude.
63
