He called Enschede the Bellower. The Supper at Mr. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment. He kissed her once inside the car. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. This is no place for me. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck.
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