“Nothing doing,” cut in Amos Hiltze shortly. “We’ve got to keep the girl quiet, and you would let out some rudeness that would spoil everything.”
“Honest I won’t, Miss Eveley. G’wan, be a sport. You promised to take me for a night ride, and you never have. I won’t say a word to the Grea—lady, honest I won’t. Be a sport, Miss Eveley, sure I can go along.”
“Let’s take him,” said Eveley. “He can sit in front with me coming back, and you can ride with Marie. He won’t say a word, will you, Angelo?”
Mr. Hiltze seemed not altogether satisfied, but Angelo was already half-way down the rustic stairs and headed for the garage, so he contented himself with one final word of warning.
“Just keep quiet,” he said to Angelo. “Do not even look at her. There must be no fuss or confusion, or she will be afraid to come.”
There was a heavy fog rolling up through the canyons, and Eveley, in her state of excitement, found the car prone to leap wildly through the misty white darkness. There was a great ringing in her ears, and her pulses were pounding. Hiltze at her side was silent and preoccupied, and Angelo in the rear sat huddled in a corner, in the rug which Eveley had tucked about him.
“We do not want any frozen passengers to bring home,” she had said, with a smile.
They spun swiftly along University, slowing for East San Diego where there were officers with bad reputations among speeders, through La Mesa, the cross on Mt. Helix showing faintly in the pale moonlight, through El Capon, out beyond Flynn Springs where the pavement left off.
“Are you tired?” asked the man, stirring closer to Eveley’s side.
“No,” she said, with a laugh that was really a sob. “But I am so out of breath, and thrilled, and—all stirred up, like a silly little schoolgirl. I believe I am frightened.”