“Sure. Skip whenever you’re ready. If I want you or your friend I’ll phone your New York hotel.”
Matt and McGlory, followed by the troubled eyes of the doctor, went out to the runabout. Before starting, Matt got the lamps to going.
“Now for Manhattan,” said he, climbing to his seat.
“Or the ditch,” added McGlory. “The way I feel now I don’t care much what happens to us.”
“That’s a funny way for you to feel, Joe,” said Matt quietly.
The car moved off in fine order—an exhibition which made Matt feel like congratulating himself.
“I’m entitled to my feelings, pard. For what I’ve done to-day you ought to cut me out of your herd.”
“You made a mistake——”
“A big one; and there was no excuse for it.”
“Yes, there was, Joe. There must have been.”