“I’ve got to go, Gloria,” he said nervously.  “Immediately.  This is important.”

“Why, of course,” she agreed.  “I can get a bite when I get home.”

He thrust the telegram into his pocket and came around to the back of her chair.  He was all impatience; it seemed he could not wait until hat and coats were gotten.  On the way to the street he looked again at his watch.

“I’ve got to go out of town,” he explained.  “I’ll be gone a couple of days.”

“But this is only Wednesday!”

“And usually I don’t go before Saturday?” He was tapping at his cigarette-case as they came to their taxi.  “Yes.  But something has happened.”

He helped her in and lifted his foot to follow.

“Gloria,” he muttered, “I can’t make it.  If I see you home I will miss the last boat across the bay.”

She was more and more interested.  She had never known Gratton to show emotion as he showed it to-night; she was more and more curious about that “business” which carried him out of town.  Why hadn’t he tossed the telegram across the table for her to read?  Here was a shut door, and from being barred a door always invites the more temptingly.  Especially to a girl like Gloria.

“Why, I can go home alone—­”

“I don’t like it.  I—­” He ended abruptly and thrust his head into the car, his eyes questing hers in the half-light; the chauffeur with his engine going looked over his shoulder.

“Come with me, Gloria!”

Gloria wondered what he meant:  whether the man was suggesting an elopement or just a wild bit of downright unconventionality.

“I mean it,” said Gratton.  “Listen.  The new day has already started.  By the time the ferry lands us in Oakland it will be nearly three o’clock.  I’ve got to drive up into the country; we’ll phone your mother and will start right away.  We’ll get there long before noon; we’ll be back before night.  It would mean only a day’s outing and no harm done.  Won’t you come, Gloria?  Please come!” He pulled out his watch again.  “We’ve just got time to catch the boat comfortably.”  He called to the taxi-driver, “To the ferry,” and jumped in.

“But——­”

“You can come as far as the ferry, anyway.  Even if you won’t give me a day of motoring.  It’s wonderful out in the country this time of year.  And——­”

When they came to the ferry there was no time for debating the matter; the crowd was pouring toward the last boat, and Gloria, her eyes bright with the joy of her escapade, went with him through the little gate where the tickets were presented for the last boat across the bay.  It was unconventional, as she saw quite clearly.  But to Gloria unconventionality was a condition fairly divided into two widely separated browsing-grounds; there was the thing which was just “daring”; there was that other which was ugly because it was “compromising.”  This adventure promised to fall into the safer category; to be off motoring with Mr. Gratton from three o’clock in the morning until late afternoon was what she considered a “lark.”