“My what?”

She rose. “I’ve got to go.”

Panic seized him. “Say, don’t drive back to-night, huh? Wherever it is you’ve got to go. You ain’t driving back to-night?”

She made no answer; parted the bushes, was out on the gravel path in the sunlight, a slim, short-skirted, almost childish figure. He followed. They crossed the bridge, left the island, reached the roadway almost in silence. At the side of the road was a roadster. Its hood was the kind that conceals power. Its lamps were two giant eyes rimmed in precious metal. Its line spelled strength. Its body was foreign. Nick’s engine-wise eyes saw these things at a glance.

“That your car?”