And now I'm in flight--pursued by
furies of my own invoking--threatened with love in its most hideous form--
matrimony! Any woman I now look upon may be my intended bride for all I
know," he continued, turning into the semiprivate driveway, bordered
heavily by lilacs; "and the curious thing about it is that I really don't
care; in fact, the excitement is mildly pleasing."
He halted; in the driveway, blocking it, stood a red motor car--a little
runabout affair; and at the steering-wheel sat a woman--a lady's maid by
her cap and narrow apron, and an exceedingly pretty one, at that.
When she saw Mr. Carr she looked up, showing an edge of white teeth in
the most unembarrassed of smiles. She certainly was an unusually
agreeable-looking girl.
"Has something gone wrong with your motor?" inquired Mr. Carr,
pleasantly.
"I am afraid so." She didn't say "sir"; probably because she was too
pretty to bother about such incidentals. And she looked at Carr and
smiled, as though he were particularly ornamental.
"Let me see," began Mr. Carr, laying his hand on the steering-wheel;
"perhaps I can make it go."
"It won't go," she said, a trifle despondently and shaking her charming
head. "I've been here nearly half an hour waiting for it to do something;
but it won't."
Mr. Carr peered wisely into the acetylenes, looked carefully under the
hood, examined the upholstery.
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