“Then, can you drive? There’s the motor, and a roomy tub-cart, and the carriage.”
“Yes—I can drive.”
“Oh, I say!” cried Norah inelegantly, struck by a brilliant idea. “Can you drive a motor?”
“No, I can’t! I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. Con will teach you—it will give you quite a new interest. Would you like to learn?”
“By Jove, I would,” he said eagerly. “You’re sure your father won’t mind my risking his car?”
“Dad would laugh at such a foolish question,” said Norah. “We’ll go and see Con now—shall we? it’s not far to the stables. You might have a lesson at once.”
“Rather!” he said boyishly. “I say, Miss Linton, you are a brick!”
“Now about golf,” Norah said, as they moved slowly away, Hardress leaning heavily on his stick. “Will you try to play a little with me? We could begin at the practice-holes beyond the terrace.”
“Yes, I’d like to,” he said.