I'm afraid I might think it was my car and do something queer.

I shall let you drive--if you _call_ it driving.

Now if Mr.Halliday will crank up for us, we'll go." "Mr.Halliday will let you set there till you get enough," Bland grinned sourly.

"I'm thinking of your safety, sister.

I'm thinkin' more of you than that piece of cheese in the pilot's seat." "Mr.Halliday, won't you _please_ start the motor ?" There was a remarkable stress upon the "please," considering the gun in Mary V's steady little right hand.