'We have been waiting for you,' said Mallinson to his wife. 'I couldn't think where you had got to,' and he glanced from her to Drake. 'I have been here all the time,' she said with a certain defiance. Mallinson turned and walked down the stairs again, without as much as a word to Drake. Clarice followed him, and after her came Drake. 'Ah, here you are!' said Captain Le Mesurier. 'Now we're ready. Drake, you are coming back with us?' Drake hesitated. 'You said you would at the Town Hall. So I have had your bag packed, and put in the waggonette.' 'Very well,' he assented; and the party went outside the hotel. 'Now, how shall we go?' asked the Captain. 'Mallinson, you of course in the waggonette,' and he chuckled with a cheery maliciousness. 'Clarice, will you get in?' 'No!' she said with an involuntary vehemence. The idea of driving back wedged in amongst a number of people, listening to their chatter, and forced to take her share in it, became suddenly repugnant to her. 'I would rather drive in the trap, if I might.' 'Very well! But who is to drive you?' Captain Le Mesurier turned to Drake. 'You can drive, of course.' Drake replied absently. 'I have driven the coach from Johannesburg to Pretoria, ten mules and a couple of ponies, and a man beside you swinging a sixty-foot lash.' Captain Le Mesurier laughed out. 'Then there'll be no upset to-night. Come along.' The guests took their seats, while Drake stood on the pavement. 'Come along, Drake,' shouted the Captain from the box seat of the waggonette. Drake roused himself with a start. 'I beg your pardon,' he said, and he went to the side of the dog-cart. He drew back when he saw Clarice already in it, and looked from cart to waggonette. 'I am so sorry,' he said in a low voice. 'I was not listening, I am afraid.' He mounted beside her, whipped up the horse, and drove ahead of the waggonette. They passed out of the town into the open country. Behind them the sounds of wheels grew fainter and fainter and died away. In front the road gleamed through the night like a white riband; the hedgerows flung out a homely scent of honeysuckle and wild roses; above, the stars rode in a clear sky. To Clarice this was the perfect hour of her life. All her speculations had dropped from her; she had but one thought, that this man driving her cared for her, as she cared for him. It was, in truth, more than a thought; she felt it as a glory about her. Accidentally, as the trap swung round a bend of the road, she leaned her weight upon his arm and she felt the muscles brace beneath his sleeve. The sensation confirmed her thought, and she repeated her action deliberately and more than once. She had but one wish, that this drive should never end, that they should go forward always side by side through a starlit night, in a stillness unbroken by the sound of voices. And that wish was more a belief than a wish.