"Get in, please. It will take time to get to the B C by the road in this car, which is far from being the last word in speed-limit violators."
With teeth set in her lips to steady them Jerry stepped into the roadster. What motive was back of Steve's decision to accompany her, she wondered, as the car shot smoothly ahead under his skilful driving. She regarded him covertly from under the brim of her rose-colored hat. He was gazing straight ahead, his brows knit in a slight frown. The silence between them seemed heavy with portent. She must say something. From far off came a faint whistle.
"Is that the east-bound train?" she asked and then wished fervently that she hadn't.
"Yes. Just pulling out of Slippy Bend. Felice is on it. Jerry, I want you to understand that the situation you stumbled on this morning was merely some of her theatrical clap-trap. When I told her about Phil she flung herself into my arms and pretended to be overcome."
"Don't apologize," the girl mocked, then as she caught a dangerous gleam in his eyes she abandoned thin ice. "Has Mr. Denbigh——"
"I got Phil's mother on long distance soon after midnight. Gerrish took him—went East in the early morning."
"Was he a dear friend of yours?"
"No. He was in my class at college but he was always aloof, unfriendly. While the rest of us were in athletics he was devoting himself to his violin. We thought him indifferent but I understand now that his position had corroded his sensitive heart."
"Position? Wasn't he of the elect?"
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Jerry. Phil's father and mother were among the great army of incompatibles. His heritage of misery as the child of divorced parents, tossed back and forth between their habitations, ruined his life but—but he made royally good at the last, poor chap."