to her as she straightened up, and said, "Thank you," but without
looking around for the face that went with it. The conductor's
intentions were still at the focal point of her mind. They were,
apparently, unaltered. He had jerked the bell while she was collecting
her note-books and the car was grinding down to a stop.

"You pay your fare," he repeated, "or you get off the car right here."

"Right here" was in the middle of what looked like a lake, and the rain
was pouring down with a roar.

She didn't hesitate long, but before she could answer a voice spoke--a
voice which, with intuitive certainty, she associated with the gloved
hand that had helped gather up her note-books--a very crisp, finely
modulated voice.

"That's perfectly outrageous," it said. "The young lady has paid her
fare."

"Did you see her pay it?" demanded the conductor.

"Naturally not," said the voice. "I got on at the last corner. She was
here then. But if she said she did, she did."

It seemed to relieve the conductor to have some one of his own sex to
quarrel with. He delivered a stream of admonition somewhat sulphurously
phrased, to the general effect that any one whose concern the present
affair was not, could, at his option, close his jaw or have his block
knocked off.