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22
A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS

“Can’t be done, I’m afraid. I’ve got to motor into town to meet Percy. He’s arriving from Oxford this morning. I promised to meet him in town and tool him back in the car.”

“I see. Well, then, why couldn’t you——

“I say, mater, dear old soul,” said Reggie hastily, “I think you’d better tear yourself away and what not. If you’re catching the twelve-fifteen you ought to be staggering round to see you haven’t forgotten anything. There’s the car coming round now.”

“I wish now I had decided to go by a later train.”

“No, no, mustn’t miss the twelve-fifteen. Good, fruity train! Everybody speaks well of it. Well, see you anon, mater. I think you’d better run like a hare.”’

“You will remember what I said?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

“Good-by, then. I shall be back to-morrow.”

Reggie returned slowly to his stone seat. He breathed a little heavily as he felt for his cigarette case. He felt like a hunted fawn.

Maud came out of the house, as the car disappeared down the long avenue of elms. She crossed the terrace to where Reggie sat brooding on life and its problem.

“Reggie!”

Reggie turned.

“Hullo, Maud, dear old thing! Take a seat.”

Maud sat down beside him. There was a flush on her pretty face, and when she spoke her voice quivered with suppressed excitement.

“Reggie,” she said, laying a small hand on his arm, “we're friends, aren’t we?”

Reggie patted her back paternally. There were few people he liked better than Maud.