"Of course not. But I really must fly—"
"The name of—the happy man."
"Why—Allan, Lord Harrowby. Thank you so much—and good-by."
She was gone now—gone amid the palms of that gorgeous hotel courtyard. And out of the roar that enveloped him Minot heard a voice:
"Thirty-five dollars, mister."
So promptly did he pay this grievous overcharge that the chauffeur asked hopefully:
"Now could I take you anywhere, sir?"
"Yes," said Minot bitterly. "Take me back to New York."
"Well—if I had a new front tire I might try it."
Two eager black boys were moving inside with Minot's bags, and he followed. As he passed the fountain tinkling gaily in the courtyard: