quieting the horses.

It was not easy, but he was cool and strong, and the horses knew he was
their master; nevertheless it was several minutes before he had them on
their legs again. During that time neither had spoken; then Jim waited for
her to break the silence. He was somewhat vexed, for he thought she had
deliberately exposed herself to an unnecessary peril. But she said nothing
and they finished their drive in silence.

At her door he sprang out to help her to alight, but she ignored his
offered aid. Though she turned away he saw that there were tears in her
eyes.

"Ethel," he said softly, but she faced him in a flash of anger.

"Don't speak to me. Oh--how I hate you!"

Jim seemed suddenly to grow bigger. "Will you please tell me if you mean
that?" he said slowly.

"I mean just that," she answered. "I--I hate you." She stood still a
moment; then she seemed to choke, and turning, fled into the house.

To Jim's mind that was the end of it. She had told him that she hated him.
The fact that there had been a catch in her voice as she said it weighed
not at all with him; that was an unknown language. So he took her
literally and exactly and went away by himself to think it over.

He was late for dinner that night, and when he came in his grandfather was
pacing the dining room. But Jim wasted no words in explanation.