Conscience again.
My first motor drive. The very first time I rested in the deep and luxurious cushions and was whirled away by hidden mechanism. Of course it would not do to let my companions know the truth, that this was a first experience, and I think I succeeded fairly well. I’m sure I succeeded. But I needed every bit of my self-control.
How grand I felt sweeping over the frozen snow, snuggled in furs; and how I admired Charlie for his mastery of the mechanism: I believe this appealed to me more than his prowess as a hockeyist.
We went miles and miles and then turned off the road and on through a grove of forest trees until we brought up before a great building. There were a number of other motors standing about.
The club was beautifully warm and we entered the lounge, as Iris explained, where huge logs were burning in a fireplace. About the place were small tables just like the Palm-room of the King Henry-the-Eighth Hotel. All was wonderfully neat and had the appearance of being well kept. The air was stimulating with the breath of the forest. I glanced through a window and looked over a few fields and a great stretch of water. How beautiful I thought, how lovely it must be to take such things as the Hunt Club as a matter of course. Poor little me, how my soul yearns for the money that is power.
There were card-players at several tables. “Shall I have to play?” was my thought. Iris carried me off to the cloak-room and I asked her if we were to play.
“Certainly,” she replied.
“Oh!” I exclaimed.
“What is it, didn’t you expect to play?”
“It never struck me we should play, and I don’t think I have enough money, if I should lose—”