They had only gone a few miles when Donald Whiting took off his hat, stuffed it down beside him, and threw back his head, shaking his hair to the wind in a gesture so soon to become familiar to Linda.
She glanced across at him and found him looking at her.

A smile broke over her lips.

One of her most spontaneous laughs bubbled up in her throat.
"Topping, isn't it!" she cried gaily.
"It's the best thing that ever happened to me," answered Donald Whiting instantly.

"Our car is a mighty good one and Dad isn't mean about letting me drive it.

I can take it frequently and can have plenty of gas and take my crowd; but lordy, I don't believe there's a boy or girl living that doesn't just positively groan when they see one of these little gray Bear Cats go loping past.