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 may not have been a saint, but hitherto he had conducted his little affairs with the most commendable punctiliousness. A gentleman can do no more.

The next morning she accompanied Perseus on his visit to the garage. Smales had already been at work for something like three or four hours, and the job was rapidly approaching completion.

“J think I shall be able to test her before lunch,” he said in answer to Vermont’s in- quiries.

“And shall we be ready to go for a spin this afternoon?’ Andromeda asked.

“What do you say, John?”

“Certainly, sir.”

But John was looking up at her with his smutty face, and she smiled at the comicality, of his appearance. If he saw the smile it occasioned him no concern, or at least not half so much as her surpassing daintiness. Again he thought of that slim, pale girl in London.

Andromeda declared that Smales was the prince of chauffeurs. The red and gold beauty, her strength restored, carried them to all points of the compass. Highway, and byway. they,