Should she deliberately place herself in the position of another entanglement?

Sid Wilcox bent lower over the steering wheel and turned on more power.

“Paul Hastings rode out with you,” he called over his shoulder to Cora, “and I’m going to ride back with you.  Nothing like having a variety and being a popular young lady.”

He was positively insulting.

“You are running away with my car!” exclaimed Cora, stung to desperation.  “I shall have you arrested!”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” he sneered.  “That would not be at all pleasant—­for you!”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why?  Because you might have to explain how that pocketbook got into your car.  I heard last night that they were going to have another investigation on new lines.”

“How dare you!” she cried.  “But that has nothing to do with this.  If you do not stop my car at once I shall call for help!”

“I dare you to!”

Did he know that she would not?

“Now, Cora, Cora,” he simpered.  “You must not do anything rash.  Better let me have my little ride with you, and incidentally get ahead of my conceited rival, Paul Hastings.  He may ride back in the car he is to drive across country, for he has probably done me out of that place.  It will be a good chance for him to practice.”

Sid’s audacity was positively startling.  Perhaps it would be best to let him have his own way.  In fact, how could she help herself?  He had the wheel, and was going at a fast rate of speed.  She could not climb over to a front seat from the tonneau.  If she should shout, who would hear her above the noise of the car?  For Sid in mere spitefulness had cut out the muffler.

Cora sank back in utter disgust and despair.  What ever would Paul Hastings think of her?  What would Walter Pennington say?  Whoever saw her, it would make talk.  Besides, Paul had come to New City in his shop clothes concealed under his duster, a fitting enough suit in which to ride in an auto, but not if he had to go back in the train.  Perhaps, she thought, he had not brought money enough with him, depending on her to take him back to Chelton.

And, above all, what would people think of Cora Kimball riding with Sidney Wilcox?

“This is glorious!” exulted the daring youth, “I have just been pining for a ride in this car, Cora, and, incidentally, I may as well admit that I have been pining for a talk with you.  When have you heard from your friend, Miss Downs?”

He fairly shot the question at Cora.

“Miss Downs?” she said falteringly.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know that I ever hear from Mary Downs,” was Cora’s sharp reply,

“No?” His voice was queerly questioning.  “Well, I want to say I think Mary a very slick little girl.”

Cora could not mistake his intention.  He wanted her to think that he believed Mary was not one of her set.  By “slick” he probably meant to convey the idea that he considered the former milliner girl might be tricky.