"What can't be cured must be ignored," he said with a shrug, as he came up. "The poor old devil evidently regards us as very impious and—American, but I made everything all right with her."
"But how——?" I started to inquire, also at the same moment starting down the track toward the lodge house, when he stopped both my question and my progress.
"Let us wait here—I have sent Collins to get a car for us from the garage not far away."
He led the way out to a drive, sheltered with trees, on the other side of the track, and we awaited the coming of Collins—neither showing any disposition to talk.
"Is this your car?" I presently asked, as the servant driving a gleaming black machine drew up in front of us. "I hadn't imagined that you would have your own car down in the country with you."
"I've had experience with these trains," he explained briefly, then he looked the car over with a masterful eye. "Yes, it's mine."
"I really shouldn't have needed to ask—there's so strong a family resemblance to the other one—the limousine you had in Oldburgh."
He looked pleased.
"I hope you'll like this one—it's a Blanton Six, you see," he explained with a pat of affectionate pride upon the door-handle as he helped me in.
Collins climbed to his place at the wheel, and without another word—without one backward look—I was whirled away into the Land of Long Ago—the period where I had always belonged.