She sprang out; and Nick, awaiting developments at a safe distance of a hundred yards in the background, saw a slim gray figure separate itself from the motionless Model.

“Now’s my time, I reckon,” he said to himself, and started the car, which could be done from the chauffeur’s seat.  He drove at low speed, as if he were out to enjoy the scenery, and slowed down gently beside Angela, who was walking in the direction of Riverside.  At that rate she might have reached the nearest railway station in an hour and a half.

Nick’s goggles and chauffeur’s hat were off.  “Why, how do you do, Mrs. May?” he asked, in his pleasant voice.  “Your machine’s broke down for good this time, I’m afraid.  Now do let me give you a lift.”

“Mr. Hilliard!” cried Angela, taken completely by surprise, as she looked up from under her sunshade.  “Where are you going?”

“I’ve no particular choice,” said Nick.  “I’m only in this part of the country because this part of the country happens to be here.  I’d be just as pleased if ’twas anywhere else.  Where are you going?”

Angela began to laugh, and could not stop laughing.  Nick, seeing this, and seeing that she looked a schoolgirl of sixteen in her little motor-bonnet, ventured to laugh too.

“I was taking to the desert,” she said.  “But I wanted to go to Riverside.  Is—­is this the same old story?”

She could not put her meaning more plainly, because of Mr. Hilliard’s chauffeur; but Nick understood.  “I’ve been learnin’ to drive, the last few days,” he said.  “And I’ve seen you, now and then, runnin’ about in that little car.  It’s an old acquaintance of mine.  Sealman tried to sell it to me last winter.  I was sort of sorry to see he’d got hold of you.”  Nick was out in the road now, standing beside her, and the big yellow car was purring an invitation.

“I was sorry for him,” said Angela.  “But I’m not now.  He’s a cheat.  He pretends I’ve engaged the car for a fortnight.”

“I guess he won’t go on along that line now he’s seen who I am,” remarked Nick, “because if he does, I’ll make his Model an orphan.  He remembers me from last winter.  I’ll deal with him for you, if you please.”

Angela laughed again.  “Thank you!  He doesn’t seem likely to go on very soon, along any line, does he?”

“Shouldn’t wonder if that car’s ball-bearings ain’t broken,” said the sharp-nosed chauffeur.  “That’s a real favourite accident of Sealman’s.  We’ve got to know it by heart in Los Angeles.  It generally happens with him—­across a trolley track.  Takes all day to dismount and fix up again.”

“We can’t go away and leave him to his fate,” said Angela.  “After all, he’s human.”

Nick could have shouted “Hurrah!” That “we” of hers told him that he had won.

“Shall we tow him to the next town?” he asked, keeping triumph out of his tone.  “We’ll land him in a garage.  And then—­if instead of his car you’ll take mine to Riverside, why, I’ll be mighty honoured.”