The red-haired one turned around indolently.
"Why, hello, you rascal, what's the matter? Running a foot race, or is the world on fire?"
"Neither, you time-killer. I want you to give me a ride in your machine."
"Well, of all the cheek you—"
"You've invited me fifty times," interrupted Felix.
"Yes, and you've declined forty-nine."
"Hurry up, or I may change my mind."
"Jump in," shouted the young millionaire.
In a thrice Conway and Barry were in the machine. After the newspaper man had presented the boy, the amateur chauffeur turned to Felix:
"Where to?"