“Where are you going?”
“Out on Long Island somewhere. Probably stop at Long Beach for dinner.”
“Sure, I’ll come,” said Jim readily. “But don’t think I’m not on to your curves, you old rascal. You want me to engage Reggie in conversation so that you can have Miss Varley all to yourself.”
“Nonsense!” disclaimed Joe, flushing a trifle.
“Well, then,” said the astute Jim, “I’ll let you have the front seat with Reggie, while I sit back in the tonneau.”
“Not on your life you won’t!” said Joe, driven out into the open.
“All right,” grinned Jim resignedly. “I’ll be the goat. When do we start?”
“Reggie will have the car up in front of the Marlborough at about ten, he said. We’ll have a good early start and make a day of it.”
“All right,” said Jim. “Let’s root for good weather.”