"Come along then, Hans," I said; and he nipped in and told me where to go and which way to take.
"Rather a nice little child," I said presently, chipping him; the girl was about sixteen, I guessed, as her hair was still down. But he resented the speech.
"Child! She's only a year younger than I am," he exclaimed quite indignantly.
"So that's how the wind blows, eh?"
"I wish to Heaven I'd come up sooner; but I say, you did make a fight of it, cousin. Nita's been telling me all about it. She says they'd have been torn to pieces if it hadn't been for you. You're a lucky beggar!"
"I don't take too kindly to that sort of luck, Hans, I can tell you."
"I only wish it had been mine," he declared regretfully.
"You did all right as it was when you came; and of course she saw you. Rather a pretty name—Nita."
He smiled self-consciously and coloured. "But her mother didn't; if she had it might change her opinion and——" He didn't finish the sentence and exclaimed: "But I say, you do know how to handle a car!"
This didn't suit me, however, so I went back to the pretty Nita. "The mother's against it all, eh?"