Hal usually had little to say. Though he answered Mlle.
Nadiboff courteously from time to time, he did not utter many words.
Indeed, he appeared to be thinking of something far remote from the
present scene.
"Are you bored, Mr. Hastings? Does the sound of my voice annoy you?"
asked Mlle. Nadiboff, as the auto flew over the quiet country roads
inland from Spruce Beach.
"Good gracious, no!" replied Hal.
"Then why do you say so little?"
"Because you say it so much better, Mademoiselle."
"But flattery will never take the place of interested conversation."
"Engineers don't talk much," protested Hal.
"So they think a great deal. Of what were you thinking?"
"Oh?" murmured Hal. "Oh, I was thinking of my engine, I guess."
Mlle. Nadiboff bit her lips in secret rage. If she had felt that she
was doing poorly with Captain Jack Benson, evidently she was now seated
beside an absent-minded sphinx.
"What place is that over there?" inquired Hal, coming out of a brown
study as he felt some reproach in the stiffening attitude of his
companion.
Hal's eye had been caught by what looked like the ruins of an old castle.
Such sights are at least rare in the United States.
"That ruin, do you mean?" asked Mlle.
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