"Of course we shall,--trust me for knowing what we want. You had better move yourself, there may be someone else here to meet you, and someone may see you whose recognition you had rather be without." What did the woman mean? There was something in her tone which was not altogether agreeable. Could tidings of her escapade have already leaked out, and did she go in fear of the condemnatory glances of censorious friends? In a state of nervous doubt she pressed after the woman through the crowd. They reached a four-wheeler. Opening the door her companion let her enter first. When they had started she put a question on the subject which was preying on her mind, a little stammeringly. "Does--anyone know of what I've done?" Her companion's tone, as she replied, was dry--even grim. "Just one or two. More than you perhaps imagine, or would quite care for if you knew. If you don't keep your eyes wide open this'll be the worst Christmas ever you spent in all your life." Edith began to suspect that this might turn out to be only too true. Her heart sank lower. Amidst the noise made by the cab her voice was scarcely audible. "Is he--so very--angry?' "That's a pretty question to ask! You've made a mess of it--about as bad a mess as you could make, and then you wonder if folks are angry. I don't know much about it, I'm not told everything, and I don't want to be told, sometimes the less I know the better I'm pleased; but from what I have heard, I should say anger wasn't the word for it; and that you're in for about as bad a time as ever you had in all your days!" Edith did not like her companion's manner,--she liked it less and less. Her voice was not that of an educated woman; her bearing, from one in her station, was unpleasantly familiar--at times, almost threatening. Mrs Bankes wondered why her husband had chosen such an agent, and how he had chanced on her. "Where are you taking me?" she asked. "Never mind where I'm taking you. Do as I do, and don't want to know more than you can help. As I've said, sometimes the less you know the more comfortable you feel." "But I insist on knowing where you are taking me. I don't want to go too far away from the station; I wish to go back by the nine o'clock train." "The devil you do!" The woman actually swore. Edith shuddered. What a dreadful creature she seemed. How could Frank have selected such a being to be her companion even for a fleeting hour. "Then you can take my word for it that you'll go back by no nine o'clock train--not much." "Then by what train shall I return?" "How should I know? Return! I shouldn't have thought that you'd have been anxious to return after what you've done. I should have thought that it would have been a little bit too warm for you down there." What was the woman insinuating? Why did she use such exaggerated language? It could hardly have been warranted by any instructions which she had received from Frank. "I think that you hardly understand the situation?"