"I must go over to the office a moment, and I may have to go to the
power-house."

"Is anybody hurt?"

"Only a pump. Don't think of things, dear. Just keep cool while you can."

"For pity's sake, there is a carriage!" Mrs. Thorne exclaimed. "We are
going to have a visitor. Fancy making calls after such a day as this!"

Mr. Thorne hurried away with manlike promptitude in the face of a social
obligation. The mistress stepped inside and gave an order to Ito.

As she returned, a lady was coming up the walk. She was young and tall, and
had a distant effect of great elegance. She held herself very erect, and
moved with the rapid, swimming step peculiar to women who are accustomed to
the eyes of critical assemblages. Her thin black dress was too elaborate
for a country drive; it was a concession to the heat which yet permitted
the wearing of a hat, a filmy creation supporting a pair of wings that
started up from her beautiful head like white flames. But Mrs. Thorne
chiefly observed the look of tense preparation in the face that met hers.
She retreated a little from what she felt to be a crisis of some sort, and
her heart beat hard with acute agitation.

"Mrs. Thorne?" said the visitor. "Do I need to tell you who I am? Has any
one forewarned you of such a person as Helen Benedet?"

The two women clasped hands hurriedly. The worn eyes of the elder, strained
by night-watchings, drooped under the young, dark ones, reinforced by their
splendor of brows and lashes.