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Updated: May 14, 2025
The bartender rounded the bar in a casual way, looking up at the ceiling as though he was pondering some intricate problem of kalsomining, and then fell upon Curly so suddenly that the roadster had no excuses ready.
She is a capital roadster and stockhorse." "Does she ever throw you?" "Never. What makes you ask?" "Well, that's queer. The fact is I sold her to you because I could not ride her. Every time I mounted, she slung me a buster." "I see, Bob, you meant well, didn't you?
And who was the particular "fellow" who ran the roadster? Late that afternoon Cope chanced upon Randolph among the fantastic basins and floral parterres of the court in front of the Botany building: Randolph had had a small matter for one of the deans. Together they sauntered over to the lake.
When they were, as he thought, out of hearing, he gave vent to several grunts, kicked a pebble across the road, and scowled ferociously. He said something about "these rubes are smarter than they used to be." He seemed convinced that he could do nothing further in the matter he had come upon. Not at this time, it was quite plain. He turned and climbed into the roadster.
There were a great many foreigners carefully clutching their transports and hurrying out of the country. At the back of the station stood an automobile, a low, racing roadster. "We had a ride in her last night," said Warren, as he approached and recognized the machine. "And it was some ride, wasn't it, Ivan?" "It certainly was," said Ivan, smiling. "What's the red cross flag on it I wonder?"
The team had been stopped below at the river; he had found a stable and a saddle, had left Red Squirrel and the broken vehicle to be sent for, and was going home, much relieved and assured by being able to present himself upon his father's favorite roadster, whole in bones and with ungrazed skin.
"Ready?" she interrogated, turning in the driver's seat to Marjorie. An affirmative and she started her car for the Hall. Just at the gate they met the black and white roadster. Leslie was its sole occupant now. "Hello!" she hailed. "Is that you, Margaret? What was the matter back there? Do you know?" Leslie leaned far out of her car in the gathering twilight. "Your roadster hit Miss Langly.
Scarcely had she alighted from the car at the rendezvous he had mentioned, beside the now deserted boathouse where in the warm weather the members of the Hampton Rowing Club disported themselves, when she saw an automobile approaching and recognized it as the gay "roadster" Ditmar had exhibited to her that summer afternoon by the canal; and immediately Ditmar himself, bringing it to a stop and leaping from it, stood before her in the sunlight, radiating, as it seemed, more sunlight still.
It was the last paragraph especially which caused a young man, the following day in the little hamlet of Tafelberg, to whistle as he carefully read it over. "I am glad that I am not the mad king of Lutha," he said as he paid the storekeeper for the gasoline he had just purchased and stepped into the gray roadster for whose greedy maw it was destined. "Why, mein Herr?" asked the man.
"You're not very deep, Morton," he said, presently. "I can see through you as plainly as if you were a plate-glass window. You have come here to induce me to relieve you of the necessity of taking Agnes and Frances Houston to Cedarcrest, in order that you may have Patricia Langdon alone with you in your roadster. And I'll wager that your chauffeur is out of commission, too."
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