dust and sought comfort in each other’s eye. Valancy, who in some dim pre-existence had been afraid of a car, was hatless and her hair was blowing wildly round her face. She would certainly come down with bronchitis — and die at Roaring Abel’s. She wore a low-neck dress and her arms were bare. That Snaith creature was in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe. They were going at the rate of forty miles an hour — sixty, Cousin Stickles averred. Lady Jane could hit the pike when she wanted to. Valancy waved her hand gaily to her relatives. As for Mrs. Frederick, she was wishing she knew how to go into hysterics.

“Was it for this,’’ she demanded in hollow tones, that I suffered the pangs of motherhood?”

“I will not believe,” said Cousin Stickles solemnly,