XIII
As the little old last year's car bore them to the north, some long sleeping-image seemed to stir in Breeders mind.
"Got car like this m'self somewheres," he remarked.
Bean was relieved. He didn't want the name of a woman to be brought into the matter just then.
"'S all right for town work," he said. "Good enough for all I want of a car."
"'S awful!" said Breede, obviously forgetting the car for another subject.
"What can I do? She says she's got the right," suggested Bean.
"She'd take it anyway. I know her. Pack a suit-case. Had times with her already. Takes it from her mother."
"Can't be too rough at the start," declared Bean. "Manage 'em of course, but 'thout their finding it out—velvet glove." He looked quietly confident and Breede glanced at him almost respectfully.
"When?" he asked.
"Haven't made up my mind yet," said Bean firmly. "I may consult her, then again I may not; don't believe in long engagements."
Breede's glance this time was wholly respectful.
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