She threw on her furs and hurried downstairs. Her surrender was too
sudden to realize that she was being driven by a power that obscured
reason and crushed her will.
Reason made one more vain cry as she paused at the door below to draw on
her gloves.
“You have refused every invitation to see or know the unconventional
world into which thousands of women in New York, clear-eyed and
unafraid, enter daily. You'd sooner die than pose an hour in Gordon's
studio, and on a Sabbath morning you cut your church and go on a day's
wild ride with a man you have known but fifteen hours!”
And the voice inside quickly answered:
“But that's different! Gordon's a married man. My chevalier is not! I
have the right to go, and he has the right.”
It was settled anyhow before this little controversy arose at the street
door, but the ready answer she gave eased her conscience and cleared the
way for a happy, exciting trip.
He leaped from the big, ugly racer to help her in, stopped and looked at
her light clothing.
“That's your heaviest coat?”
“Yes. It isn't cold.”
“I've one for you.”
He drew an enormous fur coat from the car and held it up for her arms.
“You think I'll need that?” she asked.
His white teeth gleamed in a friendly smile.
“Take it from me, Kiddo, you certainly will!”
She winced just a little at the common expression, but he said it with
such a quick, boyish enthusiasm, she wondered whether he were quoting
the expression from the Bowery boy's vocabulary or using it in a
facetious personal way.
“I knew you'd need it. So I brought it for you,” he added genially.
“Thanks,” she murmured, lifting her arms and drawing the coat about her
trim figure.
He helped her into the car and drew from his pocket a light pair of
goggles.
“Now these, and you're all hunky-dory!”
“Will I need these, too?” she asked incredulously.
“Will you!” he cried. “You wouldn't ask that question if you knew
the horse we've got hitched to this benzine buggy today. He's got
wings--believe me! It's all I can do to hold him on the ground
sometimes.”
“You'll drive carefully?” she faltered.
He lifted his hand.
“With you settin' beside me, my first name's `Caution.'”
She fumbled the goggles in a vain effort to lift her arms over her head
to fasten them on. He sprang into the seat by her side and promptly
seized them.
“Let me fix 'em.”
His slender, skillful fingers adjusted the band and brushed a stray
ringlet of hair back under the furs. The thrill of his touch swept her
with a sudden dizzy sense of excitement. She blushed and drew her head
down into the collar of the shaggy coat.
He touched the wheel, and the gray monster leaped from the curb and shot
down the street. The single impulse carried them to the crossing. He had
shut off the power as the machine gracefully swung into Fourth Avenue.
The turn made, another leap and the car swept up the Avenue and swung
through Twenty-sixth Street into Fifth Avenue. Again the power was off
as he made the turn into Fifth Avenue at a snail's pace.
“Can't let her out yet,” he whispered apologetically. “Had to make these
turns. There's no room for her inside of town.”
Mary had no time to answer. He touched the wheel, and the car shot up
the deserted Avenue. She gasped for breath and braced her feet, her
whole being tingling with the first exhilarating consciousness that she
too was possessed of the devil of speed madness. It was glorious! For
the first time in her life, space and distance lost their meaning. She
was free as the birds in the heavens. She was flying on the wings
of this gray, steel monster through space. The palaces on the Avenue
whirled by in dim ghost-like flashes. They flew through Central Park
into Seventy-second Street and out into the Drive. The waters of the
river, broad and cool, flashing in the morning sun, rested her eyes a
moment and then faded in a twinkling. They had leaped the chasm beyond
Grant's Tomb, plunged into Broadway and before she could get her
bearings, swept up the hill at One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Street,
slipped gracefully across the iron bridge and in a jiffy were lost in a
gray cloud of dust on the Boston Turnpike.
When the first intoxicating joy of speed had spent itself, she found
herself shuddering at the daring turns he made, missing a curb by a
hair's breadth--grazing a trolley by half an inch. Her fears were soon
forgotten.
The hand on the wheel was made of steel, too.
The throbbing demon encased within the hood obeyed his slightest whim.
She glanced at the square, massive jaw with furtive admiration.
Without turning his head he laughed.
“You like it, teacher?”
“I'm in Heaven!”
“You won't worry about church then, will you?”
“Not today.”
They stopped at a road-house, and he put in more gasoline, lifted the
casing from the engine, touched each vital part, examined his tires, and
made sure that his machine was at its best.
She watched him with a growing sense of his strength of character, his
poise and executive ability. He was an awkward, stammering boy in the
Library yesterday. Today with this machine in his hand he was the master
of Time and Space.
She yielded herself completely to the delicious sense of his protection.
The extraordinary care he was giving the machine was a plain avowal of
his deep regard for her comfort and happiness. She had been in one or
two moderately moving cars driven by careful chauffeurs through Central
Park. She had always felt on those trips with Jane Anderson like a poor
relation from the country imposing on a rich friend.
This trip was all her own. The car and its master were there solely for
her happiness. Her slightest whim was law for both. It was sweet, this
sense of power. She began to lift her body with a touch of pride.
She laughed now at fears. What nonsense! No Knight of the Age of
Chivalry could treat her with more deference. He had tried already to
get her to stop for a bite of lunch.
“Don't you want a thing to eat?” he persisted.
“Not a thing. I've just had my breakfast. It's only nine o'clock----”
“I know, but we've come thirty miles and the air makes you hungry. We
ought to eat about six good meals a day.”
She shook her head.
“No--not yet. I'm too happy with these new wings. I want to fly some
more--come on----”
He lifted his hand in his favorite gesture of obedience.
“'Nuff said--we'll streak it back now by another road, hump it through
town and jump over the Brooklyn Bridge. I'll show you Coney Island and
then I know you'll want a hot dog anyhow.”
He crossed the country and darted into Broadway. Before she could
realize it, the last tree and field were lost behind in a cloud of dust,
and they were again in the crowded streets of the city. The deep growl
of his horn rang its warnings for each crossing and Mary watched the
timid women scramble to the sidewalks five and six blocks ahead.
It was delicious. She had always been the one to scramble before. Her
heart went out in a wave of tenderness to the man by her side, strong,
daring, masterful, her chevalier, her protector and admirer.
Yes, her admirer! There was no doubt on that point. The moment he
relaxed the tension of his hand on the wheel, his deep, mysterious
eyes beneath the drooping lids were fixed on hers in open, shameless
admiration. Their cold fire burned into her heart and thrilled to her
finger-tips.
In spite of his deference and his obedience to her whim, she felt the
iron grip of his personality on her imagination. Whatever his education,
his origin or his environment, he was a power to be reckoned with.
No other type of man had ever appealed to her. Her conception of a real
man had always been one who did his own thinking and commanded rather
than asked the respect of others.
She had thrown the spell of her beauty over this headstrong, masterful
man. He was wax in her hands. A delicious sense of power filled her. She
had never known what happiness meant before. She floated through space.
The spinning lines of towering buildings on Broadway passed as mists in
a dream.
As the velvet feet of the car touched the great bridge she lazily opened
her eyes for a moment and gazed through the lace-work of steel at the
broad sweep of the magnificent harbor. The dark blue hills of Staten
Island framed the picture.
He was right. She had never seen New York before. Never before had
its immense panorama been swept within two hours. Never before had she
realized its dimensions. She had always felt stunned and crushed in the
effort to conceive it. Today she had wings. The city lay at her feet,
conquered. She was mistress of Time and Space.
Again her sidelong glance swept the lines of Jim Anthony's massive jaw.
She laughed softly.
“What's the matter?” he asked.
“Nothing. I'm just happy.”
She blushed and wondered if he had read her thoughts by some subtle
power of clairvoyance. She was speculating on the effects of love at
first sight on such a man. Would he hesitate, back and fill and hang
on for months trying in vain to gain the courage to speak? Or would he
spring with the leap of a young tiger the moment he realized what he
wanted?
Her own attitude was purely one of joyous expectancy. It would, of
course, be a long time before her feelings could take any definite
attitude toward a man. For the moment she was supremely happy. It was
enough. She made no effort to probe her feelings. She might return to
earth tomorrow. Today she was in Heaven. She would make the most of it.
They skimmed the wooded cliffs of Bay Ridge, her heart beating in
ecstasy at the revelation of beauty of whose existence she had not
dreamed.
“I bet you never saw this drive before, now did you?” he asked with
boyish enthusiasm.
“No--it's wonderful.”
“Some view--eh?”
“Entrancing!”
“You know when I make my pile, I'd like a palace of white marble perched
on this cliff with the windows on the south looking out over Sandy Hook,
and the windows on the west looking over that fort on the top of Staten
Island with its black eyes gazing over the sea. How would you like
that?”
She turned away to mask the smile she couldn't repress.
“That would be splendid, wouldn't it?”
“I like the water, don't you?”
“I love it.”
“Water and hills both right together! I reckon my father must 'a' been a
sea-captain and my mother from the mountains----”
He said this with a pathos that found the girl's heart. What a pitiful,
lonely life, a boy's without even the memory of a mother or father!
The mother instinct rose in a resistless flood of pity. Her eyes grew
suddenly dim.
“Well,” he said briskly, “now for the dainty job! I've got to jump my
way through that Coney Island bunch. You see my low speed's a racing
pace for an everyday car. All I can do in a crowd is to jump from one
crossing to the next and cut her power off every time. You can bet I'll
make a guy or two jump with me----”
“You won't hurt anyone?” she pleaded.
“Lord, no! I wouldn't dare to put her through that mob in the afternoon.
I'd kill a regiment of 'em. But it's early--just the shank of the
morning. There's nobody down here yet.”
The car suddenly leaped into the Avenue that runs through the heart of
Coney Island, the deep-throated horn screaming its warning. The crowd
scattered like sheep before a lion.
The girl laughed in spite of her effort at self-control.
“Watch 'em hump!” Jim grunted.
“It's funny, isn't it?”
“When you're in the car--yes. It don't seem so funny when you're on
foot. Well, some people were made to walk and some to ride. I had to
hoof it at first. I like riding better--don't you?”
“To be perfectly honest--yes!”
The car leaped forward again, the horn screaming. The wheel passed
within a foot of a fat woman's skirt. With a cry of terror she fled to
the sidewalk and shook her fist at Jim, her face purple with anger.
He waved his hand back at her:
“Never touched you, dearie! Never touched you!”
Mary lost all fear of accident and watched him handle the machine with
the skill of a master. She could understand now the spirit of deviltry
in a chauffeur who knows his business. It seemed a wicked, cruel thing
from the ground--this swift plunge of a car as if bent on murder. But
now that she felt the sure, velvet grip of the brake in a master's hand,
she saw that the danger was largely a myth.
It was fun to see people jump at the approach of an avalanche of steel
that always stopped just short of harm. Of course, it took a steady
nerve and muscle to do the trick. The man by her side had both. He was
always smiling. Nothing rattled him.
Her trust was now implicit. She relaxed the tension of the first two
hours of doubt and fear, and yielded to the spell of his strength. It
seemed inseparable from the throbbing will of the giant machine. He was
its incarnate spirit. She was being swept through space now on the wings
of omnipotent power--but power always obedient to her whim.
With steady, even pulse they glided down the long, broad Avenue to
Prospect Park, swung through its winding lanes, on through the streets
of Brooklyn and once more into the open road.
“Now for Long Beach and a good lunch!” he cried. “I'll show you
something--but you'll have to shut your eyes to see it.”
With a sudden bound, the car leaped into the air, and shot through the
sky with the hiss and shriek of a demon.
The girl caught her breath and instinctively gripped his arm.
“Look out, Kiddo!” he shouted. “Don't touch me--or we'll both land in
Kingdom Come. I ain't ready for a harp just yet. I'd rather fool with
this toy for a while down here.”
She braced her feet and gripped the sides of the car, gasping for
breath, steadied herself at last and crouched low among the furs to
guard her throat from the icy daggers of the wind.
The landscape whirled in a circle of trees and sky, while above the dark
line of hills hung the boiling cauldron of cloud-banked heavens.
“Are you game?” he called above the roar.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Don't stop----”
Her soul had risen at last to the ecstasy of the mania for speed that
fired the man's spirit and nerved his hand. It was inconceivable
until experienced--this awful joy! Her spirit sank with childish
disappointment as he slowly lowered the power.
“Got to take a sharp curve down there,” he explained. “We turn to the
right for the meadows and the Beach--how was that?”
“Wonderful,” she cried, with dancing eyes. “Let her go again if you want
to--I'm game--now.”
Jim laughed.
“A little rattled at first?”
“Yes----”
“Well, we can't let her out on this road. It's too narrow--have to take
a ditch sometimes to pass. That wouldn't do for an eighty-mile clip, you
know--now would it?”
“Hardly.”
“I might risk it alone--but my first name's `Old Man Caution' today--you
get me?”
Mary nodded and turned her head away again.
“I got you the first time, sir,” she answered playfully taking his tone.
He ran the car into the garage at the Beach, sprang out and lifted Mary
to the ground with quick, firm hand. They threw off their heavy coats
and left them.
“Look out for this junk now, sonny,” he cried to the attendant, tossing
him a half dollar.
“Sure, Mike!”
“Fill her up to the chin by the time we get back.”
“Righto!”
Quickly they walked to the hotel and in five minutes were seated beside
a window in the dining-room, watching the lazy roll of the sea sweep in
on the sands at low tide.
“I'm hungry as a wolf!” he whispered.
“So am I----”
“We'll eat everything in sight--start at the top and come down.”
He handed her the menu card and watched her from the depths beneath the
drooping eyelids.
Conscious of his gaze and rejoicing in its frank admiration, she ordered
the dinner with instinctive good taste. No effort at conversation was
made by either. They were both too hungry. As Jim lighted his cigarette
when the coffee was served, he leaned back in his chair and watched the
breakers in silence.
“That's the best dinner I ever had in my life,” he said slowly.
“It was good. We were hungry.”
“I've been hungry before, many a time. It was something else, too.” He
paused and rose abruptly. “Let's walk up the Beach.”
“I'd love to,” she answered, slowly rising.