This was a sore subject with Angela. She believed that she disliked the
bag; but also she disliked having it go out of her life beyond recall.
"Think of the money he spent, and the trouble he took!" something seemed
to moan in her mind. But with an impersonal air she gave Kate permission,
dismissing the past as represented by the Hilliard incident, and plunging
into the joy of arranging future motor-cars and trains--a future which was
to concern her, and Kate, and Kate's cat alone, not Mr. Hilliard.
A singularly sympathetic and apparently intelligent hotel clerk not only
advised a motor for sightseeing in the neighbourhood, but recommended one
owned and invented by a friend. It was a "clipper," he said; could do
anything but climb trees or jump brooks, and might be hired by Mrs. May,
at a reasonable price, for a day, a week, a month, a year. Angela felt
bound to say that she should like to see it; and--almost before the last
word was out of her mouth--the garage was rung up by telephone.
The car arrived with startling promptness, and if Angela had been given
time to think it might have occurred to her that there was not, perhaps,
as much competition for this new invention as the hotel clerk had implied.
The inventor, who was driver and chauffeur as well, bore a striking
resemblance to a sulky codfish, but his half-boiled eyes lighted up and
glittered (even as his car glittered with blue paint), at the prospect of
business.
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