WINGS OF STEEL
She threw on her furs and hurried downstairs.Her surrender was too sudden to realize that she was being driven by a power that obscured reason and crushed her will.
Reason made one more vain cry as she paused at the door below to draw on her gloves.
"You have refused every invitation to see or know the unconventional world into which thousands of women in New York, clear-eyed and unafraid, enter daily.You'd sooner die than pose an hour in Gordon's studio, and on a Sabbath morning you cut your church and go on a day's wild ride with a man you have known but fifteen hours!"And the voice inside quickly answered:
"But that's different! Gordon's a married man.My chevalier is not! I have the right to go, and he has the right."It was settled anyhow before this little controversy arose at the street door, but the ready answer she gave eased her conscience and cleared the way for a happy, exciting trip.
He leaped from the big, ugly racer to help her in, stopped and looked at her light clothing.
"That's your heaviest coat?" "Yes.It isn't cold.""I've one for you."
He drew an enormous fur coat from the car and held it up for her arms."You think I'll need that?" she asked.
His white teeth gleamed in a friendly smile."Take it from me, Kiddo, you certainly will!"She winced just a little at the common expression, but he said it with such a quick, boyish enthusiasm, she wondered whether he were quoting the expression from the Bowery boy's vocabulary or using it in a facetious personal way.
"I knew you'd need it.So I brought it for you," he added genially."Thanks," she murmured, lifting her arms and drawing the coat abouther trim figure.
He helped her into the car and drew from his pocket a light pair of goggles.
"Now these, and you're all hunky-dory!"
"Will I need these, too?" she asked incredulously.
"Will you!" he cried."You wouldn't ask that question if you knew the horse we've got hitched to this benzine buggy today.He's got wings-- believe me! It's all I can do to hold him on the ground sometimes.""You'll drive carefully?" she faltered.He lifted his hand.
"With you settin' beside me, my first name's `Caution.'"She fumbled the goggles in a vain effort to lift her arms over her head to fasten them on.He sprang into the seat by her side and promptly seized them.
"Let me fix 'em."
His slender, skillful fingers adjusted the band and brushed a stray ringlet of hair back under the furs.The thrill of his touch swept her with a sudden dizzy sense of excitement.She blushed and drew her head down into the collar of the shaggy coat.
He touched the wheel, and the gray monster leaped from the curb and shot down the street.The single impulse carried them to the crossing.He had shut off the power as the machine gracefully swung into Fourth Avenue.The turn made, another leap and the car swept up the Avenue and swung through Twenty-sixth Street into Fifth Avenue.Again the power was off as he made the turn into Fifth Avenue at a snail's pace.
"Can't let her out yet," he whispered apologetically."Had to make these turns.There's no room for her inside of town."Mary had no time to answer.He touched the wheel, and the car shot up the deserted Avenue.She gasped for breath and braced her feet, her whole being tingling with the first exhilarating consciousness that she too was possessed of the devil of speed madness.It was glorious! For thefirst time in her life, space and distance lost their meaning.She was free as the birds in the heavens.She was flying on the wings of this gray, steel monster through space.The palaces on the Avenue whirled by in dim ghost-like flashes.They flew through Central Park into Seventy- second Street and out into the Drive.The waters of the river, broad and cool, flashing in the morning sun, rested her eyes a moment and then faded in a twinkling.They had leaped the chasm beyond Grant's Tomb, plunged into Broadway and before she could get her bearings, swept up the hill at One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Street, slipped gracefully across the iron bridge and in a jiffy were lost in a gray cloud of dust on the Boston Turnpike.
When the first intoxicating joy of speed had spent itself, she found herself shuddering at the daring turns he made, missing a curb by a hair's breadth-- grazing a trolley by half an inch.Her fears were soon forgotten.
The hand on the wheel was made of steel, too.
The throbbing demon encased within the hood obeyed his slightest whim.She glanced at the square, massive jaw with furtive admiration.
Without turning his head he laughed."You like it, teacher?""I'm in Heaven!"
"You won't worry about church then, will you?" "Not today."They stopped at a road-house, and he put in more gasoline, lifted the casing from the engine, touched each vital part, examined his tires, and made sure that his machine was at its best.
She watched him with a growing sense of his strength of character, his poise and executive ability.He was an awkward, stammering boy in the Library yesterday.Today with this machine in his hand he was the master of Time and Space.
She yielded herself completely to the delicious sense of his protection.The extraordinary care he was giving the machine was a plain avowal of his deep regard for her comfort and happiness.She had been in one ortwo moderately moving cars driven by careful chauffeurs through Central Park.She had always felt on those trips with Jane Anderson like a poor relation from the country imposing on a rich friend.
This trip was all her own.The car and its master were there solely for her happiness.Her slightest whim was law for both.It was sweet, this sense of power.She began to lift her body with a touch of pride.
She laughed now at fears.What nonsense! No Knight of the Age of Chivalry could treat her with more deference.He had tried already to get her to stop for a bite of lunch.
"Don't you want a thing to eat?" he persisted.
"Not a thing.I've just had my breakfast.It's only nine o'clock----" "I know, but we've come thirty miles and the air makes you hungry.
