“_Gita Carteret!_” Polly’s voice tore by her on a wild shrieking note. Elemental Polly, at last! Gita set her lips grimly and sped on. The matter was out of her hands. She would not discuss it. She wanted nothing but to be alone. “_Gita Carteret! You’ll pay! You’ll pay!_” Menacing, that shriek, no longer hysterical. Gita heard the roar of the engine behind her and moved hastily to the extreme edge of the road, glancing over her shoulder. The headlights swerved and drove toward her. She had no time even to harbor incredulity. Polly intended to ride her down! She darted toward a space between the trees, through it and into the shrubbery, less terrified than humiliated at being obliged to run instead of standing up to a fair fight. But she could not grapple with a frantic roadster with blinding headlights. The car plunged through the opening after her. She scrambled to the top of a hedge and swung herself over and fled across the lawn, dropping her hampering cape. The car crashed through the hedge. She waited until it was almost upon her, then jumped to one side. She caught a glimpse of the two girls. Polly’s face was a whirling disk of white fire. Elsie had flung herself upon her, trying to wrench her hands from the wheel, but Gita knew that Polly was nearly as strong as herself. Elsie took little interest in sports. Polly brought the car about with a wide sweep, picked Gita out with the headlights and drove toward her once more. But Gita had got her breath. She dodged behind an oak on the lawn, ran swiftly to the left and entered the avenue again between trees too closely planted to admit even a roadster. Her one chance was to reach the house before Polly could bring the car about again and aim for the entrance to the avenue. She reached the foot of the steps just as Polly made a last wild attempt to ride her down. Gita was breathless, but managed to walk up the steps with her head high. Topper had left his usual faint light in the hall. She lit several of the brackets. No more fighting-matches in the dark for her! The car had come to a standstill and Gita wondered vagrantly why Polly hadn’t driven it up the steps and into the hall, in the fashion of their reckless ancestors when urging the more picturesque horse. But she heard nothing for a few moments but the low murmur of voices. Probably Polly had dropped out of her murderous obsession with a hard thud and was properly ashamed. She hoped she’d take herself off, and waited for the welcome sound of the roadster in the avenue. To retreat first would be to show a white feather, and if Polly wanted a scene let her have it. But she was severely shaken. She knew she had had a narrow escape. Once more she sighed. How was she to recapture those last wondrous moments out there on the meadows? Retreat into a throbbing solitude with this miracle that had come to her? Rapid feet on the steps. They were coming!