It stopped being fun when it became necessary to turn a corner. This was a difficult maneuver and when it was over, Helen and Comstock were again entwined in a manner that was highly indecent. Now that the buildings they had escaped from were receding into the distance, Comstock found that he was rather enjoying the feel of Helen's soft flesh.
It made him blush and his heart must have suffered from the strain, but nevertheless he did, he told himself, enjoy being near her. What a ghastly perversion! To find youth exciting! What would his dear Father have thought?
But then he decided not to worry too much about Father. One thought was uppermost in his mind. He wanted a girl just like Helen. If one could be found.
Grundy yelled above the sound the vehicle was making. "We're almost there. What number house did Bowdler say?"
"Fourteen, I think," Comstock said and he was glad to have a break in the direction that his thoughts were taking.
Next to him, Helen pursed her full lips and whistled. She said, "Take a look!"
The house well repaid a look. It was the closest that Comstock had ever been to a home that belonged to one of the Fathers. Immense, sprawling, with a lawn that was as carefully tended as time and work could make it, crisp bushes, trimmed and shaped, the house was a gem. It was on the side of a hill that sloped steeply downwards.
They drew up in front of it and a new problem arose. Grundy yelled, "Better jump. I don't know how to stop this thing!"
One after the other they leaped from the "car" which, since Grundy did not know how to shift the gears, was still in first and was making all of fifteen miles an hour.