Poor Wilbur at this time felt guiltily culpable that he did not own a motor car in which his Margaret might take the air.

He had tried to see his way clear toward buying one, but in spite of a certain improvidence, the whole nature of the man was intrinsically honest.

He always ended his conference with himself concerning the motor by saying that he could not possibly keep it running, even if he were to manage the first cost, and pay regularly his other bills.

He, however, felt it to be a shame to himself that it was so, and experienced a thrill of positive pain of covetousness, not for himself, but for his Margaret, when one of the luxurious things whirled past him in Fairbridge.

He, it was true, kept a very smart little carriage and horse, but that was not as much as Margaret should have.