So unexpected was it, coming on top of the happiest evening of the summer, that I stood for a moment immovable. Then I leaped from the terrifying darkness of the garage out into the moonlight, and there confronted young Gordon, standing outside and quietly smoking.
“Hello!” I said, when I could speak. “Out again, I see.”
“Yes. That place gets my goat,” he replied. “I guess I’m jumpy, since the other night.”
He looked badly, and I asked him if he cared to sit down before starting back. But he refused.
“I’ll get hell if he finds I’ve left the house,” he said elegantly.
I turned and walked back with him toward the house, and seeing him secretly amused about something, asked him what it was, whereupon he said that he was thinking of the way I had shot out of the garage.
“Put something ov
