“No, I will not go motoring with you. How dare you!”
“May I call, then?”
More as a punishment than a hospitality, she said:
“Yessir––the fourteenth house on the left side of the road is me.”
The days were still long and the dark tardy when he marched up the street. It was a gantlet of eyes and whispers. He felt inane to an imbecility. The whole village was eying the boss on his way to spark a stenog. His little love-affair was as clandestine as Lady Godiva’s famous bareback ride.
He cut his call short after an age-long half-hour of enduring the ridicule twinkling in Mamise’s eyes. He stayed just late enough for it to get dark enough to conceal his return through that street. He was furious at the situation and at Mamise for teasing him so. But she became all the dearer for her elusiveness.
CHAPTER IV
After the novelty of the joke wore off Mamise grew as uncomfortable as he. She was beginning to love him more and her job less. But she was determined not to throw away her independence. Pride was her duenna, and a ruthless one. She tried to feed her pride on her ambition and on an occasional visit to the ship that was to wear her name.