'Well, I don't know that I could have a better guide.'
'Go and put on your best clothes. You're going out with me.'
'I've got them on,' smiled Airey Newton.
'Oh, I beg your pardon!' cried Peggy in momentary distress. His face reassured her; they both fell to laughing.
'Well, anyhow,' she suggested, as a last resort, 'suppose you brush them?'
Airey had no objection to that, and departed to his room.
Peggy moved about in restless excitement, fired by her idea. 'First for her, and then——' She shook her head at her own audacity. Yet confidence would not die in her. Had she really struck on the way? Had not the demon summoned up all his most seductive arguments just because he was sore afraid? It was madness? 'Yes, madness to cure madness!' cried Peggy in her heart. A gift to the poor would not do that; the fire would consume and offer nothing in return. She would try.
Airey seemed to surrender himself into her hands; he climbed into the cab docilely. She had run down first and given the man a direction. Airey did not ask where they were going. She opened the little bag, took out its contents, and thrust them into his hands; he pocketed them without a word. They drove westward. She glanced at him covertly once or twice; his face was puzzled, but not pained. He wore an air of sedate meditation; it was so out of keeping with the character of the expedition that Peggy smiled again.
She darted another quick look at him as they drew up at their first destination. He raised his brows a little, but followed her in silence. Peggy gave a gasp of relief as they passed within the doors.