"
"The car?"
"Downstairs--waiting."
He had forgotten his hurt. He caught up his hat and a coat, and pushed
her out of the room. He locked the door, and thrust the key into his
pocket. As they walked down the corridor he lit a cigarette.
A footman met them in the hall.
"A gentleman has called to see you, sir--a Mr. Spencer," he announced.
"I have shown him into the library."
Mr. Fielding appeared to hesitate for a moment.
"It is the man who wants to sell us the car," he exclaimed, turning
towards the girl, "but I haven't even seen it yet. Better tell him to
wait for a quarter of an hour," he added, turning towards the footman.
"I'll just drive down to the lodge gates and back. Come along, Sybil."
She followed him to the front door. A man was seated at the wheel of the
motor car, and turned his head quickly as they approached. Mr. Fielding
nodded pleasantly, though his face was white with excruciating pain.
"Kept you waiting, I'm afraid," he said. "Can you drive at all in a wind
like this?"
"Jump in, sir, and see," the man answered. "Is the young lady coming?"
Mr. Fielding nodded, and stepped into the front seat.
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