countenance, and flung herself into the drawing-room with her father.
"Storm signals," mused Mr. Barcus. "What possessed our dear friend to bring that tigress along, I'd like to know. He might as well have loaded himself down with a five-gallon can of nitro-glycerine."
The cause of her temper was not far to seek: at the far end of the car Alan was bending solicitously over the chair in which Rose was resting. One of his arms was around her shoulder. Her face was lifted confidently to his.
Mr. Barcus saw no more. He turned delicately away, and set himself to round out two of the compartments formerly dedicated to the uses of Trine's creatures, preparing them for the accommodation of Rose and Alan. Judith, he decided, might shift for herself; he owed that young woman nothing—or, if anything, a dozen or so narrow squeaks for her life, such as those to which she had gratuitously treated him.
He mused morosely on his apprehension of trouble a-brew, simmering over the waxing fire of that strange woman's jealousy. He didn't like the prospect at all. If only Alan and Rose had not been so desperately in love that they couldn't keep away from one another! If only Alan had been sensible enough to outwit the woman and leave her behind when he
