"I wanta talk to you--I _got_ to talk to you." Myra made out the party ahead, had an instant vision of her mother, and then--alas for convention--glanced into the eyes beside.

"Turn down this side street, Richard, and drive straight to the Minnehaha Club!" she cried through the speaking tube.

Amory sank back against the cushions with a sigh of relief.
"I can kiss her," he thought.

"I'll bet I can.

I'll _bet_ I can!" Overhead the sky was half crystalline, half misty, and the night around was chill and vibrant with rich tension.