So Max Wilson was taking Sidney to Schwitter's, making her the butt of

garage talk! The smiles of the men were evil. Joe's hands grew cold, his

head hot. A red mist spread between him and the line of electric lights.

He knew Schwitter's, and he knew Wilson.

He flung himself into his car and threw the throttle open. The car jerked,


"You can't start like that, son," one of the men remonstrated. "You let 'er

in too fast."

"You go to hell!" Joe snarled, and made a second ineffectual effort.

Thus adjured, the men offered neither further advice nor assistance. The


minutes went by in useless cranking--fifteen. The red mist grew heavier.

Every lamp was a danger signal. But when K., growing uneasy, came out into

the yard, the engine had started at last. He was in time to see Joe run

his car into the road and turn it viciously toward Schwitter's.

Carlotta's nearness was having its calculated effect on Max Wilson. His

spirits rose as the engine, marking perfect time, carried them along the

quiet roads.

Partly it was reaction--relief that she should be so reasonable, so

complaisant--and a sort of holiday spirit after the day's hard work. Oddly

enough, and not so irrational as may appear, Sidney formed a part of the

evening's happiness--that she loved him; that, back in the lecture-room,

eyes and even mind on the lecturer, her heart was with him.

So, with Sidney the basis of his happiness, he made the most of his

evening's freedom. He sang a little in his clear tenor--even, once when

they had slowed down at a crossing, bent over audaciously and kissed

Carlotta's hand in the full glare of a passing train.

"How reckless of you!"

"I like to be reckless," he replied.

His boyishness annoyed Carlotta. She did not want the situation to get out

of hand. Moreover, what was so real for her was only too plainly a lark

for him. She began to doubt her power.

The hopelessness of her situation was dawning on her. Even when the touch

of her beside him and the solitude of the country roads got in his blood,

and he bent toward her, she found no encouragement in his words:--"I am mad

about you to-night."

She took her courage in her hands:--"Then why give me up for some one



"Why is it different? I am a woman. I--I love you, Max. No one else will

ever care as I do."

"You are in love with the Lamb!"

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