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 I'm glad you kept your promise today. It's time we should leave. . . . She went to the telephone. . . . Hello, give me the starter. . . . Then, Is my car there, Hughie? This is Miss Six. Send it down the drive. Go along with you!

Hughie never forgets to say nice things, she said, as she replaced the receiver. Come along. We'll walk across the lawn. Good-bye, mother.

Good-bye, dear. . . . Mrs. Six embraced her daughter. . . . Good-bye, Mr. Deacon.

They strolled around to the drive back of the bungalow where they found Miss Six's car waiting.

Mr. Deacon, she was saying a moment later when they were seated in the moving automobile, you mustn't be afraid of Griesheimer. His manner is rather abrupt, probably because he's shy or has an inferiority complex. You see he never had an education—except in the cloak and suit business or something like that—but he means well. He's just trying to cover up his real feelings.

Miss Six, Ambrose replied with fervour, I think I'm afraid of everybody out here except you. I think I'm afraid of California itself.

Regarding him quizzically, she repeated: Don't be afraid of Ben Griesheimer.

I'm sure I shall be. I can't help it, but it doesn't