The young woman of the car who had been following Olivia more or less in her descent, appeared from behind the bush. She, too, thanked God. He had been saved by a miracle. How had he escaped? “A providence which looks after idiots caused me to be hurled out of the car at the first bump. I fell into the gorse. I’m not in the least bit hurt. Please don’t worry about me.” “You must let us drive you home—I’ll call my husband,” said the young woman. “Thank you very much,” said he, “but I’m perfectly sound and I’d rather walk; but this lady seems to have had a shock and no doubt——” The young woman, perplexed, turned to Olivia. “You said this—gentleman—” for Alexis stood trim in brass-buttoned and legginged chauffeur’s livery—“you said he was your husband.” “A case of mistaken identity,” he replied suavely. Olivia, her brain in a whirl, said nothing. The young woman advanced a few steps and coo-eed to the young man who had just reached the ravine. As he turned on her hail, she halloed the tidings that all was well. “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” she said. They stood an embarrassed trio. Alexis explained how the steering-rod, which had given him trouble all day, had suddenly snapped. It had been the affair of a moment. As for the car, it was merely a kind of land ark fitted with a prehistoric internal combustion engine. Insured above its value. The proprietor would be delighted to hear the end of it. The young man joined them, out of breath. Explanations had to be given _da capo_. Again Good Samaritan offers to put their two-seater at the disposal of the derelicts. With one in the back seat they could crowd three in front. They were going to Cullenby, twenty miles on, but a few miles out of their way, if need be, were neither here nor there. A very charming, solicitous, well-run young couple. Olivia scarcely knew whether to shriek at them to go away, or to beg them to remain and continue to save a grotesque situation. Presently Triona repeated his thanks and declined the proffered lift. Walking would do him all the good in the world; would steady his nerves after his calamitous bump. The young man eyed him queerly. It was a strange word for a chauffeur. “But if you would take this lady,” said Triona again. Olivia recovered her wits. “I will walk too, if you don’t mind. I’m only a mile from home. And this gentleman is really my husband.” “If we can really do nothing more?” The young man raised his hat. “A thousand thanks for all your kindness,” said Olivia. The very mystified young couple left them and remounted the hill. The subjects of their mystification stood for a while in silence. Presently Olivia, whose limbs not yet recovered from the shock trembled so that her knees seemed to give her no support, said: “Don’t you think we might sit down for a little?” “As you will,” said Alexis, seating himself on his hummock. She cast herself down on the slope and closed her eyes for a moment.