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Updated: April 30, 2025
It was his surreptitious transference of the rubber-banded bunch of letters to the oblivion of the closed service-car desk, observed by Miss Brewster, that gave the president's daughter an opportunity to make partial amends for having turned his business trip into a car-party.
While the stream of guests was slowly making its way into the car, while Yerkes at the further end, resplendent in a buttonhole and a white cap and apron, was watching the scene, and the special engine, like an impatient horse, was puffing and hissing to be off, a man, who had entered the cloak-room of the station to deposit a bundle just as the car-party arrived, approached the cloak-room door from the inside, and looked through the glazed upper half.
His answer seemed to be indirection itself. "How long do you expect to stay in Angels and its vicinity?" he asked. "I don't know. This is partly a pleasure trip for us younger folk. Father was coming out alone, and I that is, mamma decided to come and make a car-party of it. We may stay two or three weeks, if the others wish it. But you haven't answered me.
I suppose I don't need to tell you not to take any chances?" Van Lew shook his head and smiled. "Not while the dear girl whom, God willing, I'm going to marry, is a member of our car-party. I'm more likely to be over-cautious than reckless, Mr. Lidgerwood."
The service-car had been turned into a make-shift hospital for the wounded, and the car-party was homeless. "We are all waiting to say how sorry we are that we insisted on coming and thus adding to your responsibilities, Howard," said the president's daughter, and now there was no trace of mockery in her voice. His answer was entirely sympathetic and grateful.
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