"What can you get out of your car?" she asked. And the man answered quickly, "As much speed as the roads let me—I have done sixty."
"Please take me home." The words came abruptly and with undisguised wretchedness, "and take me fast."
CHAPTER V
Twenty minutes later Stuart Farquaharson swung himself to the driver's seat of his low-hung roadster, and threw on the switch, while Billy Stirling and the others stood at the curb, waving farewells and finding nothing suitable to say.
The car went purring through the quiet streets where gabled houses slept under the moon, but having passed the town limits, leaped into a racing pace along the road for Orleans.
Stuart made no effort to talk and Conscience spoke only at long intervals. She was gazing ahead and her eyes were wide and wet with tears.
Once she leaned over to say: "If any of the things I said seemed disloyal, please try to forget them. Of course, I'm only too glad he wants me, and that I can help."
"I understand," he assured her. "I never doubted that."