That's you, ain't it?
Her mother says that if you showed up by five-thirty you two was to go after 'em in the Packard." Amory's despair was crystallized by the appearance of Myra herself, bundled to the ears in a polo coat, her face plainly sulky, her voice pleasant only with difficulty.
"'Lo, Amory." "'Lo, Myra." He had described the state of his vitality.
"Well--you _got_ here, _any_ways." "Well--I'll tell you.

I guess you don't know about the auto accident," he romanced.
Myra's eyes opened wide.
"Who was it to ?" "Well," he continued desperately, "uncle 'n aunt 'n I." "Was any one _killed ?_" Amory paused and then nodded.
"Your uncle ?"--alarm.
"Oh, no just a horse--a sorta gray horse." At this point the Erse butler snickered.
"Probably killed the engine," he suggested.

Amory would have put him on the rack without a scruple.
"We'll go now," said Myra coolly.

"You see, Amory, the bobs were ordered for five and everybody was here, so we couldn't wait--" "Well, I couldn't help it, could I ?" "So mama said for me to wait till ha'past five.

We'll catch the bobs before it gets to the Minnehaha Club, Amory." Amory's shredded poise dropped from him.