"Sixty or eighty miles!"
"Yes. That's nothing to a car like this. You just see how I'm going to make her hum. I haven't had a car like this to drive since I came out of that beastly asylum place."
"I beg your pardon?" said Giveen, cold shivers going up his back. "Did you say—did I understand you to say—which asylum place was it, did you say?"
"Don't bother me with questions," replied Mr. Dashwood, "for when people talk to me when I'm driving, I'm sure to do something wrong."
CHAPTER XXV
When Miss Grimshaw saw Bobby leading Mr. Giveen to the bazaar entrance she returned to her duties with so distracted a mind that she sold a seven-and-six-penny teacloth to Mrs. Passover, the sanitary inspector's wife, for two and sixpence, and was only conscious of the fact when she was reminded of it by Miss Slimon, the presiding genius of the stall.
On the pretext of a headache, she released herself at five o'clock and made directly for The Martens, where she found Mr. French smoking a cigar and reading a novel, and utterly oblivious of the fact that he had promised to attend the bazaar.
"What's up?" said French, putting his book and reading glasses down and staring at the girl, whose face and manner were eloquent of news.