The rain had begun to fall softly. It gathered strength as they turned into Fifth Avenue, and came down smartly. Betty didn't intend to say a word about the fact that she was wearing a new hat. It had escaped Peter's notice. Her face was all he saw. He wasn't even aware that it was raining until he took her arm and found her sleeve was wet.
"Good Lord!" he said. "This won't do. Dash this rain, it's going to spoil our walk. Where can we go? I know." A line of taxis was standing on a stand. He opened the door of the first one. "Pop in, baby," he said. "We'll drive to the Ritz and have tea. I can't have you getting wet."
Betty popped in, not really so profoundly sorry to escape that strenuous walk as Peter was.
Being a wise man he took full advantage of the taxicab, and for all the fact that it was broad daylight and that anybody who chose could watch him, he gave Betty a series of kisses which did something to make up for lost time and a long separation. The new hat suffered rather in the process, but what did that matter? This was love. Hats could be replaced--such a love as his, never.
"Your father is a great chap," said Peter. "We had a good yarn last night. By Jove! I wish my father had something of his friendly way. I felt that there was nothing I couldn't tell him--nothing that he wouldn't understand. Well, well; there it is. Graham and I will have to worry along as best we may. Everything'll come out all right, I hope."
"Well," said Peter, considering his answer with the greatest care, "she's undoubtedly a wonderful woman, but she scares me to death. The very first thing she did was to ask me to speak at one of her meetings."
Betty burst out laughing. "What--? Already? When are you speaking? What are you going to say?"
"Good Lord! What can I say? I can recite the Jabberwocky or the alphabet in English, French and American, but that finishes my repertory. Can you see me standing on a platform as white as a sheet trying to stammer out a few idiotic sentences to a room full of women? Look here! You've got to get it out of her head that I can be of the slightest use to her. Tell her I stutter, or that I've got no roof to my mouth--anything you like--but, for goodness sake, have my name taken off her list. Will you promise that? Already I wake up in the middle of the night in an absolute panic."