For presently there was an odor from the
uncorked bottle in the car.
Bud started and drove steadily on through the rain that never
ceased. The big car warmed his heart with its perfect
performance, its smooth, effortless speed, its ease of handling.
He had driven too long and too constantly to tire easily, and he
was almost tempted to settle down to sheer enjoyment in driving
such a car. Last night he had enjoyed it, but last night was not
to-day.
He wished he had not overheard so much, or else had overheard
more. He was inclined to regret his retreat from the acrimonious
voices as being premature. Just why was he a simp, for instance?
Was it because he thought Foster owned the car? Bud wondered
whether father-in-law had not bought it, after all. Now that he
began thinking from a different angle, he remembered that father-
in-law had behaved very much like the proud possessor of a new
car. It really did not look plausible that he would come out in
the drizzle to see if Foster's car was safely locked in for the
night. There had been, too, a fussy fastidiousness in the way the
robe had been folded and hung over the rail. No man would do that
for some other man's property, unless he was paid for it.
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