Lydia turned to the jury--not dovelike, but with a modified beam of candid friendliness that was very winning. She described her day. She had left her house about half past eleven and had run down to Miss Bellington's, a distance of thirty miles, in an hour and a half. She had expected to spend the afternoon there, but finding that her friend had an engagement she had left earlier than she expected. No, she had no motive whatsoever for getting to town quickly. On the contrary, she had extra time on her hands. No, she had not noticed the hour at which she left Miss Bellington's, but it was soon after luncheon; about twenty-five minutes before three, she should imagine. Was she conscious of driving fast at any time? Yes, just after leaving Miss Bellington's. There was a good piece of road and no traffic. She had run very fast--probably thirty-five miles an hour. Did she call that fast? Yes, she did. She achieved a very-good-little-girl manner as she said this. For how long had she maintained this high rate of speed? She was afraid she couldn't remember exactly, but for two or three miles. On approaching the village of Wide Plains she had slowed down to her regular rate of twenty-five miles an hour--slower as she actually entered the village. She could not say how long Drummond had been following her--she had not noticed him. She had seen him as she was entering the village--saw him reflected in her mirror. It was difficult to judge distances exactly from such a reflection. She had not been noticing him just at the moment of the accident. Yes, her decision to take the right-hand turn had been a sudden one. She had felt the impact. She believed that the policeman ran into her. She was on her own side of the road and turning to the right. Why did she take the right-hand road, which was longer than the left? Because it was more agreeable, and as she was in no hurry to get home she did not mind the extra distance. After the accident she had remained and rendered every assistance in her power, going to the hospital and remaining there until the preliminary report of Drummond's condition. She had left her address and telephone number, so that the hospital could telephone her when the X-ray examination was finished. Her friends drew a sigh of relief when her direct testimony was over. It was true, she was not an appealing figure like Alma Wooley; but she was clear, audible, direct, and her straight glance under her dark level brows was convincingly honest. As she finished her direct testimony she looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. The important moment had come. She heard Wiley's smooth voice saying "Your witness" as if he were making the People a magnificent present. As she became aware that O'Bannon was standing up, looking at her, she raised her eyes as far as the top button of his waistcoat, and then slowly lifting both head and eyes together she stared him straight in the face.