Belden took up the reins with a vague sense of momentary relief: it was something to do. Under the influence of the fresh autumn air his spirits rose; he found himself enjoying the swift rattle of the cart and the beat of the horse’s feet. After all, think of Caddy’s grit; think of her fine constitution! A fighting chance--that was little enough to say, though. Why couldn’t he have put it a little stronger? Hitchcock always was a pessimist. At the station the usual crowd of well-dressed suburbanites quieted their horses and waited impatiently for the express. As Belden drew up into line, they greeted him with a subdued interest; coachmen left their seats to ask how Mrs. Moore was to-day, and when could one see her? A sudden mist came over his eyes as he answered briefly, “Very soon--I hope.” The train thundered in; in an incredibly short time all the guests and commuters were hurried off toward town--where was that nurse? As his glance wandered through the thinning crowd, it was met suddenly and squarely by two brown eyes set in a fresh pink face framed by dark hair lightly sprinkled with gray. The second that he looked into that woman’s eyes taught him her character, absolutely, as finally as if he had grown up with her. One could trust her to the last ditch, he thought. She walked straight up to the cart. “I am the nurse sent for by Dr. Hitchcock. Are you Mr. Moore?” “I am Mrs. Moore’s brother--Mr. Belden,” he explained. “Have you your checks?” “That is all arranged,” she returned briefly. “I am all ready. May I ask you to hurry? Dr. Hitchcock was anxious for me to see her before six, when the fever begins.” His nerves were more sharply edged than he knew: an instant irritation seized him. “There is plenty of room in the back of the cart,” he insisted, “the express people are very uncertain. Would you not better give me the checks?” She swung herself up beside him with a firm, assured motion; for a heavily built woman she carried herself very lightly. “I think not,” she said decidedly, “the man has started, I am sure. I would rather lose no time.” He bowed and started the horse: he disliked her already. To a deep-seated, involuntary disgust that any woman should have to earn her living he added a displeased wonder that one should choose this method of doing it. There must be disagreeable details connected with it, embarrassments, absolute indignities: why did they not marry? This woman was good-looking enough. She was very obstinate--almost dictatorial. His idea of womanhood was hopelessly confused with clouds of white tulle, appealing eyes, and a desire for guidance. It was impossible to connect any of these characteristics with the woman beside him.