that."

Mrs. Wrandall marvelled. "Not so bad as that!" And she was a
murderess, a wanton!

"You are hungry? You must be famished."

"No, I am not hungry. I have not thought of food." She said it in
such a way that the other knew what her whole mind had been given
over to since the night before.

A fresh impulse seized her. "You shall have food and a place where
you can sleep--and rest," she said. "Now please don't say anything
more. I do not want to know too much. The least you say to-night,
the better for--for both of us."

With that she devoted all of her attention to the car, increasing
the speed considerably. Far ahead she could see twinkling, will-o'-the-wisp
lights, the first signs of thickly populated districts. They were
still eight or ten miles from the outskirts of the city and the
way was arduous. She was conscious of a sudden feeling of fatigue.
The chill of the night seemed to have made itself felt with abrupt,
almost stupefying force. She wondered if she could keep her strength,
her courage,--her nerves.

The girl was English. Mrs. Wrandall was convinced of the fact almost
immediately. Unmistakably English and apparently of the cultivated
type. In fact, the peculiarities of speech that determines the London
show-girl or music-hall character were wholly lacking. Her voice,
her manner, even under such trying conditions, were characteristic