“Here’s the taxi!” cried Irene, in intense relief. “Here, get in, Elsie. Thank you,” she added to the child. “Don’t wait, I’ll tell the man where to go.” She gave the driver Elsie’s address after the little girl had entered the house again, and then climbed in beside her friend, drawing a long breath. “Thank the Lord! We got away pretty quickly, didn’t we? Well, it’s the last time I’ll meddle with anything of that kind, I swear. I say, Elsie, had we better stop at a chemist’s and get you something?” “Yes--no. I don’t care. Ireen, I want to know what that woman said. It was something awful about _me_, wasn’t it?” “She had a--kind of fit, I think. I don’t believe she knew what she was saying--she just screamed out a pack of nonsense. And you gave a yell, and went down like a log. I can tell you, you’ve pretty nearly scared the life out of me, young Elsie.” Irene was indeed oddly white-faced and jerky. Her manner was as unnatural as was her sudden volubility. Elsie, still feeling weak and giddy, leant her head back and closed her eyes. She felt quite unable to make the effort of remembering what had happened at the clairvoyante’s house, and was moreover instinctively aware that the recollection, when it did come, would bring dismay and terror. She and Irene Tidmarsh did not exchange a word until the taxi stopped. “Here we are. You’d better pay him, Elsie. I’ll take the Tube from the corner, and get home in half an hour.” “Aren’t you coming in with me?” said Elsie, surprised. “I don’t think I will. I’d rather get straight home.” “Oh, do!” urged Elsie, half crying. She felt very much shaken. “I’m all alone; Horace won’t be back till seven, and this has upset me properly. Besides, I know I shall remember what it was that awful woman said in a minute, and I’m frightened. You _must_ come in, Ireen.” “I can’t,” repeated Irene, inexorably. “I ... really, I’d rather not, Elsie.” The door opened, and Irene turned rapidly and walked away down the street. Elsie tottered into the house. “I’m ill,” she said abruptly to the servant. “I fainted while I was out, and I feel like nothing on earth now. I shall go to bed.” “Yes, ’m. Shall I go for a doctor, ’m?” said the girl zealously. “No,” said Elsie sharply. “I don’t want a doctor. Telephone to Mr. Williams at the office, Emma, and ask him to come home early. Say I’m ill.” “Yes, ’m.” Elsie dragged herself upstairs and took off some of her clothes. She was shivering violently, and presently pulled her blue cotton kimono round her and slipped into bed. She lay there with closed eyes, shuddering from time to time, until Emma brought up a cup of strong tea. Elsie drank it avidly, lay down again and felt revived. Presently she dozed. The opening of the door roused her. It was nearly dark, but she knew that it must be her husband, who never knocked before entering their joint bedroom. “What’s all this, Elsie?” “I felt rotten,” she said wearily. “Turn on the light, Horace.”