Cornelia loomed above her, alert even in this moment of shock and dishevelment. One cheek was plastered with soil; patches of green stain discoloured her coat, her hair hung rakishly askew, yet never had her manner been more composed nor complacently matter of fact. "We've had a pretty lucky let-off. You are alive all right, and I guess there's not much the matter with you but nerves. There's nothing wrong with your lungs, anyway. You scared the mare pretty near as much as the bird--yelping like a crazed thing, and hanging on to my arm. The grass is soft enough. It hasn't hurt you any. You needn't worry feeling all over to see if there's a break. You'd know it fast enough if there were." "Miss Ramsden is feeling stunned. I think it would be wiser to allow her to recover gradually. It is a shock to--er--to most systems, to be shot out of a cart, however short the distance!" The masculine voice was thunderous with indignation, and the arm which supported Elma's back tightened its hold, as if to protect her against the world. Cornelia turned aside, her red lips twisted into a smile, and walked along the bank to where the other two men were unharnessing the mare, which lay on her side trembling with fright, the blood oozing from several ugly-looking cuts and scratches. As Cornelia walked she held her right wrist tightly with her left hand, as if she still felt the strain of that wrestle with the reins, but there was no flinching in voice or manner as she stood over the men, issuing instructions in brisk, incisive tones. The nearer of the two was impressed to the extent of ceasing work to touch his cap; the second darted one contemptuous glance in her direction, and placidly continued to disobey. Cornelia promptly knelt on the grass by his side, with intent to demonstrate her own greater efficiency, but the first movement of the strained wrist brought a flush of pain to her cheeks. She sat back, pursing her lips together to restrain an involuntary groan, while the stranger flashed a second look in her direction. He was a tall, lean, somewhat cadaverous--looking man, with steel-like eyes shaded by haughty eyelids, perpetually adroop as though no object on earth were worthy of his regard. Cornelia took him in in a swift, comprehensive glance, and with youthful ardour decided that she loathed the creature. "Hurt yourself?" "Not a bit, thanks. I guess there's enough of you to do the work without me, but I'm used to seeing things done in a hurry, and you seemed pretty deliberate--" "A little caution is not thrown away sometimes. What induced you to come out driving alone if you could not manage a horse?" There being no reply to this question, and the last buckle of the harness being unstrapped, the speaker turned an inquiring glance over his shoulder, to behold a rigid figure and a face ablaze with indignation.