Three minutes later I was sitting in a comfortable coupé, which Miss
Childe was driving at an unlawful speed in the direction of Colt.

"You drive a lot, don't you?" flashed my companion.

"A good deal."

"Then I expect you hate being driven by a stranger?"

"Not at all. Sometimes, of course----" I waited for us to emerge from
between two motor-lorries and a traction-engine. As we were doing over
forty-five, the pause was but momentary. "I mean----"

"That you're being frightened to death?"

"Not to death. I've still got some feeling in my right arm." We dropped
down one of the steepest hills I have ever seen, with two bends in it,
at an increased speed. "You keep your guardian angel pretty busy, don't
you?"

A suspicion of a smile played for a second about my lady's lips.

"The only thing I'm really frightened of is a hansom cab," she affirmed.

"Try and imagine that there are half a dozen round the next corner, will
you?"

The smile deepened.