It was mostly about the baseball nine at
Hotchkiss, of which he was manager, and the new golf holes and an
inter-school swimming match and such things, concerning which poor
Robin knew nothing, but he was so boyish and jolly that Robin did not
feel in the least shy or awkward.
"Say, don't you want to go with me while I try out my new car? The road
toward Cornwall is good and I've bet that I can get her up to sixty.
Great morning, too. Are you game?"
Robin felt game for anything that would take her away from Miss Alicia's
friends--except Rosalyn. Tom took her back to the garage and tucked her
into half of the low seat and climbed in beside her.
For the next two hours they tore back and forth over the Cornwall road
at a pace that caught Robin's breath in her throat. Occasionally Tom
talked, but most of the time he bent over the wheel, his eyes on the
road ahead with a frenzied challenge in them, as though the innocent
stretch of macadam was prey for his vengeance.
Just outside of the town he slowed the car down to a snail's pace.
"Some baby, isn't she?" he asked and at Robin's perplexed eyes he went
off into rollicking laughter.
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