“Mayn’t I give you a lift if you are going down-town?” she said quickly, for Ridgway, having detached himself from the group, was working toward her, and she felt an instinctive sympathy for the man who had lost. Furthermore, she had something she wanted to tell him before he heard it on the tongue of rumor.

“Since you are so kind;” and he climbed to the place beside her.

“Congratulate me, Miss Balfour,” demanded Ridgway, as he shook hands with her, nodding coolly at her companion. “I’m a million dollars richer than I was an hour ago. I have met the enemy and he is mine.”

Virginia, resenting the bad taste of his jeer at the man who sat beside her, misunderstood him promptly. “Did you say you had met the enemy and won his mine?”

He laughed. “You’re a good one!”

“Thank you very much for this unsolicited testimonial,” she said gravely. “In the meantime, to avoid a congestion of traffic, we’ll be moving, if you will kindly give me back my front left wheel.”

He did not lift his foot from the spoke on which it rested. “My congratulations,” he reminded her.

“I wish you all the joy in your victory that you deserve, and I hope the supreme court will reaffirm the decision of Judge Purcell, if it is a just one,” was the form in which she acceded to his demand.

She flicked her whip, and Ridgway fell back, laughing. “You’ve been subsidized by the Consolidated,” he shouted after her.

Hobart watched silently the businesslike directness with which the girl handled the ribbons. She looked every inch the thoroughbred in her well-made covert coat and dainty driving gauntlets. The grace of the alert, slender figure, the perfect poise of the beautiful little tawny head, proclaimed her distinction no less certainly than the fine modeling of the mobile face. It was a distinction that stirred the pulse of his emotion and disarmed his keen, critical sense. Ridgway could study her with an amused, detached interest, but Hobart’s admiration had traveled past that point. He found it as impossible to define her charm as to evade it. Her inheritance of blood and her environment should have made her a finished product of civilization, but her salty breeziness, her nerve, vivid as a flame at times, disturbed delightfully the poise that held her when in repose.